


Beyond this Existence: New Life

by aliceslantern



Series: Beyond this Existence [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NSFW, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Vanilla, exploration of trauma and depression, this story is like half sex and half everything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 101,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceslantern/pseuds/aliceslantern
Summary: Recovery is a tedious, nonlinear process. Demyx, Ienzo, and the others living in Radiant Garden's castle have to learn to come to terms with their pasts and their memories, learn to grow, and begin to understand what, exactly, it means to be human. While there is unexpected joy in this, there is also unexpected sorrow.A series of loosely interconnected oneshots set after Beyond this Existence. Zemyx (Demyx/Older!Ienzo), roughly canon-compliant, complete.Current short: "Someday." Time passes. Those at Radiant Garden's castle continue to change and grow. Demyx and Ienzo live out the rest of their lives.





	1. Privacy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a little different than BtE or Counterpoint. If you haven't read those, I suggest you skim them, as these shorts will retain the traits and character development present in that fic. These will mostly be short, one-off stories exploring character relationships and events, some of them connected, some of them not. A good deal of these shorts also contain NSFW elements, and as I know this is not necessarily everyone's cup of tea, will be tagged beforehand. 
> 
> I wrote these stories mostly because I love the characters and wanted to write something I'd like myself. I hope you enjoy it too.

This short is **NSFW.**

Timeline: Immediately after chapter 19 of _Beyond This Existence_.

Privacy

Ienzo was not used to being fragile.

Weak, yes. But not sickly, or frail.

More uncomfortable still was how everyone fussed over him. Constantly checking his vitals, hovering, asking how he was feeling. He was scared to admit to simple aches and pains, lest it trigger some larger medical examination. 

And truthfully, he did worry. He had frequent headaches, varying from mildly uncomfortable to completely unbearable. Aerith assured him that it was likely related to his will, that its growing strength manifested in odd ways. He tired easily. Simply preparing for his day often required him to sit and rest for a few minutes.

At least reading wasn't physically exhausting. Those first few days he wasn't strong enough to go all the way to the library, but Demyx  _ kindly _ volunteered to get him whatever he needed. He spent his time in the sitting room instead.

He had read maybe half of a chapter before Even was checking up on him.

“I brought you some tea,” he said, and while there was indeed a teacup in his hands, Ienzo knew it was something of a ruse. “No pesky headaches today, I hope?”

“No. At least, not yet.”

Even placed his hand against Ienzo’s forehead. “Your color looks good. You do look a little thin, though. We should try to get you eating more. I’m not sure how many kilos you lost--”

“My clothing doesn’t feel loose.”

“Even so. I thought you were underweight before all this happened. I’ll get you some of the leftovers from dinner, how does that sound?” Even left without waiting for a response.

Ienzo looked back towards his novel. He was trying to avoid hard study, at least for the first week; as much time as he’d spent resting, his head was still foggy. Something to occupy his attention was enough. After all that had happened, he would rather focus on other characters’ adventures. The novel bored him somewhat. He set it aside and looked out the partially open window. It was spring now, and the air was fresh and clean. He wished he were strong enough to go outside. That would take some time yet. 

Even brought him a plate of fish and rice. His gaze was closed, guarded. He presented the plate and sat on the opposite couch, tapping the tips of his fingers together gingerly. Ienzo forced himself to eat, but as it was he had a poor appetite. 

“I know what happened,” Even said in a low voice. “But I didn’t get to hear the whole story.”

“I’m not sure I’m the source you want. That evening is very hazy to me. Demyx would probably be more accurate.” He knew, factually, what he’d done--by freeing the pain from the darkness, it was able to dissolve and allow the hearts of their victims to go to their rightful places--but the actual memories were insubstantial, dreamlike. In fact, his memory itself was no longer so achingly, brilliantly sharp. Ienzo wasn’t sure how much of this was tied to his powers, and how much it had to do with the breakdown of his will. 

“...Hazy?” Even asked. “How so?”

“I’ve lost my powers.”

“Yes. I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go.”

“Neither am I, but… I believe they gifted me an atypically strong sense of memory, and now that I am merely average, it feels like something of a downgrade.” He touched his brow. “Feelings, fine details, are not so clear.”

Even frowned a bit, but nodded. “The average memory functions by recording, then recalling that recording, and then taping over it with the recollection. Which is why, for the ordinary person, it fades over time. If you’re not used to that sensation, of course things must seem out of place.”

“Do you think I will ever be capable of magic again?”

Even’s lips narrowed into a thin line. “...Perhaps,” he said after a moment. “But I forbid you from trying anything for some months. You’ve taken enough risks.”

Ienzo knew he had a point. At the same time, he bristled a little. 

“Ansem agrees with me. So, I’m sure, would Demyx. He was an absolute wreck when you were asleep.” He exhaled. “This isn’t about choice, or agency. You’ve pushed the limits of your being too far. Of course we’re going to worry.”

Ienzo smiled, involuntarily, but it was not out of joy. “This reminds me of when I was a child.”

“Well, when you were a child, you didn’t have a death wish.”

“Beg pardon?”

Even sighed. “Part of me believes you absolutely did the right thing. On the other hand, the part of me that raised you cannot bear this impulsiveness of yours.”

“It was not an impulsive act. This was something I wanted ever since I was human--”

“But were you truly saving them? Or saving yourself?”

He stumbled over his words. “Does it matter?”

Even crossed over to sit next to Ienzo. He took the empty plate from his lap. “It’s time for you to let go.”

“I have. I think you need to follow suit.”

The door opened. Demyx came in, with the bag full of books Ienzo had requested. “So I couldn’t find the third volume of  _ Shadow of the Morning Star, _ but the rest were there, so--” Noticing the tension, he blinked. “Am I, uh, interrupting something.”

“I was merely bringing Ienzo some lunch,” Even said. He took the empty plate and left a little too quickly.

Demyx raised an eyebrow, and took his empty spot. “What the hell was that about?”

“Complicated and unresolved feelings. As always. I feel to a degree he was projecting onto me. It is harder for them to grow, you know.” He took the bag from Demyx’s hand and set it aside. “Thanks for this.”

“...Grow? You mean, as people?”

Ienzo nodded. “Am I wrong, though? They cannot work through their trauma as literally or as wholly as I did.”

For a moment, Demyx looked away from him, out the window. “Are you really healed, though? I know you feel a lot better. Hell, you can  _ see _ that weight gone from your shoulders. But I just… I don’t want you to beat yourself up if this relief is only temporary.”

Ienzo frowned. “Do you think Even’s right?”

He made an exasperated noise. “All I know was that when I got my memories back I felt fine, too, for a few days, and then I got really depressed. Just… maybe take the time to figure it out, first. You’ve gone through a lot.”

Ienzo realized that he was getting defensive. “It would be easier if I weren’t so doted on. Even and Ansem, in particular, have been hovering over me.”

“Because they care about you. You--you almost died, Ienzo. That takes a lot out of someone.” His fist was clenched tightly in his lap. “They don’t want to lose you. They want another chance with you. To actually be your weird, mildly neglectful dads, or whatever.” Demyx pushed a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. 

It was becoming clear. “I’m sorry.”

He froze a little. “It’s okay.” Then, more directed to the floor than to him, “Look, I get it. Boy, do I. And I’m so proud of you, for what you did. I think it’s great. But to say that watching and waiting all those weeks for you to die or not didn’t hurt would be a lie.”

“I’m not leaving again.”

Demyx blinked back the tears. “I know.”

“Demyx.” Ienzo said. “I’m not leaving you.” He pulled him close and heard him trying not to break down, his whole body fraught with tension. After a moment Ienzo could feel him start to relax. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to Ienzo’s shoulder. “I’m… this is supposed to be about you, and I--”

“You don’t have to pretend for me. I don’t want that. At all.”

He nodded, drying his eyes.

“You really are a crybaby,” Ienzo teased, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“I cried over a roast beef sandwich Aerith bought me the other day.”

He chuckled.

“To be fair, it was really good.”

“You’ll have to take me there sometime.”

He nodded, as though the idea had never occurred to him. “Yeah, I… will.” He kissed Ienzo once, gently. Ienzo tried to kiss back, but Demyx had pulled away.

“I won’t break,” Ienzo said. “I’m not made of glass.”

“You got winded walking to the kitchen this morning.”

He sighed, resigned.

“Besides, if you’re being hovered over I’d hate to start something and get walked in on, you know?”

“Normally I admire your practicality, but…”

He grinned. “Hold that thought. There’s always time, right?”

“...I suppose there is.”

* * *

It started to become something of an issue, actually.

Gradually, Ienzo became stronger. It took several weeks for him to get through the day without resting. Aeleus helped him with some mild physical therapy, and while he too became a sort of presence, he never pestered him with many questions.

It felt… strange, to have so much time on his hands. While his memory still remained comparatively fuzzy, he grew accustomed to the sensation. He began journaling on the gummiphone, though he had no momentous insights.

“It’s good you’ve been taking time to rest, physically and emotionally,” Ansem commented one morning. “It’s the healthy thing to do, rather than throw yourself headlong into new study. I think you should spend some time just being a young person.”

“...Perhaps. I’m still quite weak.” He’d walked with Demyx over to Aerith’s house, his first time in town since he’d woken. The fact that he’d been able to get back on his own was a point of pride. He was finding, increasingly, that he did not like waiting. He felt, in a way, that he’d already done more than enough of it. He wanted life; he wanted it now.

Amongst other things.

“You’re feeling well, though?” Ansem prompted.

“Yes--you do remember that you asked me last night, correct?”

“I… yes. You are right. Have the headaches stopped?”

“Yes. More or less.”

He scratched his beard. He was starting to go gray; Ienzo reminded himself repeatedly that it was merely from age. “It’s good to see you up and about. Where’s Demyx? I figured you two would be joined at the hip.”

He felt his face warm, and hoped it was not visible. “He’s been with Aerith, training. There’s not much we can do while I’m still basically bound to the castle. No reason for him to waste time.” With Ienzo under such scrutiny, it wasn’t as if they ever had much privacy--and it wasn’t necessarily only the lack of physical intimacy that bothered him. They couldn’t really open up much to one another, either. Now that he was stronger, he hoped they could find the space and time to talk. Or what have you.

(If he were being completely honest with himself, the lack of intimacy  _ was _ strange, especially because it stopped as soon as he’d become accustomed to it. This wasn’t the type of emotion that, once found, could be lost again like it had for the first twenty years of his life. He felt  _ incredibly _ hormonal and it was  _ incredibly _ awkward to deal with. Despite it supposedly being “normal.”)

“I… suppose. I should hate for you to spend your days alone, though,” Ansem said.

“I don’t always mind it.”

“...Yes, you were an introverted child.”

Ienzo crossed over to the sink and washed out his mug. “I’m quite different now,” he said simply. “I know you see me as you once did, but I  _ am _ an adult.”

Ansem looked up, as though startled. “You’re right. I should be treating you as such, shouldn’t I? It’s quite the transition.”

“Quite,” he said. “Well. I’m going to return some books to the library.”

This turned out to be something of a stupid idea. He figured he’d carry the books in a backpack, in an effort to exercise, but his muscles felt soft as cake. His own fault for choosing hardcovers in excess of six hundred pages. By the time he actually climbed up to the second floor of the main library, he was winded and sweaty and cursing that it was the human condition to be corporeal.

Ienzo set the bag down, dropped into one of the quashy armchairs, and tried not to wheeze for breath, despite the fact that there was no one around to hear him. His gummiphone chimed with a text, and inwardly he groaned. He found a message from Demyx. His heart stuttered and he again chastised being real, for a different reason.

_ I am FREE from skateboarders… going 2 shower quick and then find u… where? _

To this day he couldn’t tell if he found Demyx’s text lingo endearing or annoying for its grammatical imperfection.  _ I’ll give you three guesses. _

He sent a waving hand emoticon in response. Most of the others used them liberally, especially Lea and Xion, and often reading their messages seemed like decoding hieroglyphics. The gummiphone was quickly evolving to be vastly important. There was probably some deeper insight to that, seeing as he had crafted a good amount of the programs himself, but anticipation was making it hard to think.

If nothing came of today, he would  _ have _ to find some way of controlling this himself. Embarrassingly. 

Ienzo leaned back against the chair and glanced up at the ceiling. Warmth prickled across his skin, even in the rather neutral temperature of the room. He tried to quiet the noise inside of him and traced his eyes across the constellations painted on the ceiling. He should like to, someday soon, go out and observe the night sky, now that the darkness was receding. Stars were coming back. He could create the new chart, see what worlds were still missing. Or maybe just admire their beauty. Beauty had value in and of itself too, right? Of course it did. Was this was it meant to spend time merely “being”? Maybe so…

The next thing he knew, he was being woken gently. “Sleepyhead,” Demyx said. “I tried to be quick. Were you waiting long?”

Ienzo rubbed at his eyes. “No. I simply exhausted myself on the way here, carrying these books.”

“...You want me to put those back for you?” His hair was still damp, darker than usual. He smiled. “I  _ did _ get a grasp on the card catalog. Finally. You guys made it way too complicated.”

“...I’ll go with you.”

Demyx hefted the bag of books over one shoulder. They crossed back over to fiction. Their hands brushed one another, lightly. When would it happen? Or where? What should he say?

“It’s here, right?” Demyx asked, gesturing to the shelf of fantasy Ienzo had steadily been pillaging.

He blinked, trying to center himself. “Yes. Er. Let me see.” He took out the volumes one by one with trembling hands and put them, in order, on the empty shelf. He felt Demyx’s hand against his waist, casual, warm. 

“You swapped them,” Demyx said. “What, something on your mind?” He reached up to correct the mistake. 

He could not think of something witty to say in response. “I…”

Demyx kissed the nape of his neck and Ienzo exhaled shakily. “I know. Holy shit, do I know.”

Ienzo turned and kissed him. It was a sloppy, hasty sort of kiss, but at this point the tension was just unbearable. If Demyx minded, he didn’t say anything, and in fact kissed back harder. Ienzo pulled him close and felt the shelf pressing against his back. A stronger, more insistent warmth made him shake. 

Demyx had more willpower than him, and broke off the kiss. They breathed against one another. “We can’t go back,” he said.

“No.”

“Where  _ can _ we go?”

Ienzo could barely think. It wasn’t as if they could stay here in the open; Even and Ansem occasionally dropped by, as did Dilan or Aeleus, on their rounds. His heart was beating almost painfully fast. “Follow me.”

As it was, they didn't have to leave the space; once, when this place was open to the public, there were small, closed cubicles for private study or conversation, places mostly emptied by now or converted to storage. Ienzo had spent innumerable hours here when he was small; he sought the privacy of it now. Maybe later he'd be disgusted or embarrassed, but then was not now.

Ienzo pulled open one of these doors and shut it behind them, only half aware of the smell of dust and the poor lighting. The rest of his focus was displaced.

Just like that they were tangled in each other with a sort of ferocity. It felt like burning and being burned. He brought one leg up against Demyx, felt him slide his hand up underneath Ienzo's thigh. "I can hold you," Demyx said between breaths. "If you want to--"

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, just--"

He picked him up with a surprising ease. Ienzo curled his arms and legs around him. His back pressed against the wall, mercifully cool against their combined warmth.

It was almost too much, to be kissed and feel their bodies pressed so closely. Ienzo tangled one hand in Demyx's hair, the other wrapped tightly around his shoulder for support. It felt so… odd to give himself over so wholly. Demyx broke away from his mouth and pressed his lips against Ienzo's throat. A soft noise caught in the back of his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Demyx asked him.

"Yes. I've been… struggling." The last thing he wanted was to stop. "You forget I'm not used to feeling like this--"

"...You know why we had to wait?'

"I know." The dim recessed lighting brought his face into view. "I do resent it."

He set Ienzo down and sat on the floor. "Come here."

He approached him slowly, for a moment trying to embrace rather than reject the too-potent feelings of the last few weeks. "Could I--"

"What?"

Ienzo curled his legs around him, not quite straddling him. Here, they were eye level. 

"I like this," Demyx said quietly.

"I thought so."

He kissed him again. Ienzo felt nearly feverish. He tugged at the hem of Demyx's shirt and let it fall to the ground. He ran his fingers across the scars, then his lips, hearing a soft gasp. His own shirt was pulled over his head and all of a sudden he was on the ground.

It was beyond fascinating how feeling all this changed perception of reality, and somewhat of a shame he was too busy to think about it.

"Was that too jarring?" Demyx asked. 

"I liked it," he admitted in a voice that was not quite his.

"Good. I… I didn't want to hit your head or anything."

"You… you brought the--"

"Yeah, I mean I kind of figured we'd be--"

Another wave of anticipation nearly made him faint. Ienzo pulled Demyx down on top of him, tracing the slightly defined muscles of his back. 

"I love you," he whispered, and took off Ienzo's pants and underwear at the same time. Ienzo kissed him. He didn't trust his words. He reached down to help Demyx finish undressing. His skin was slightly tacky. 

Ienzo touched Demyx's dick, feeling it harden further and gratifying in the small sound he made. He moved slowly, for fear than anything more would bring it quickly to an end. They were too pent up. Being touched himself felt like getting shocked, the soft strokes blurring what little thought he had left. "You should do it now."

"Okay, I just--hang on--" He heard Demyx digging through his pants pocket for the lube. It was still slightly cool when he eased a finger inside of Ienzo. There was no longer so much pressure. It felt good, actually. His hand curled into a fist. He felt another finger, then a third, but it remained painless. "It's been a while. I don't want to hurt you," Demyx whispered.

Ienzo wondered, briefly, if that might not be so terrible, but before he could unpack that, he said, "You won't."

There was some more vague fumbling, and he felt the tip of it slide into him. Demyx made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He slipped it in slowly. If Ienzo were not already laying down, he would have gone weak at the knees. He leaned up as much as he could to kiss him.

Demyx moved gently at first, but this seemed to satisfy neither of them. 

Speaking was getting more and more difficult. "You can be rough," Ienzo said, almost through his teeth.

"You want that?" Half flirtatious, half seeking consent.

Ienzo nodded.

"Let me know. If--"

He understood. 

Ienzo had neither the focus nor the capacity to deconstruct this. It was all just blessedly  _ quiet _ for once, at least inside his head. Demyx thrusted with less restraint. He held Ienzo's hand tightly.

The pleasure was overwhelming, each move inside of him threatening overstimulation. He could hear the noise he was making but couldn't feel ashamed, merely observing it with interest. 

The sensation rose and tightened and he pushed up against Demyx with more urgency. "I know," he said to Ienzo as if in response, "I'm trying, I'm trying not to--" 

Color and warmth flooded his vision with stars, and for a moment all he could comprehend was the relief, like he couldn't breathe properly until now. They were both pressed together still, sweaty and breathless. Ienzo tried for words, reeling. "I didn't feel it--did you--"

"Yes. Holy shit." He pulled out and rested against Ienzo, his muscles slack.

"I think I fainted for a second."

Demyx looked up, startled. "Are you okay?"

"Not because of illness--because of--"

He lay back down. "You know, it's not good to get so pent up."

"Well--what am I to do?"

"Seriously? You still haven't--"

"No. I'm still getting used to the fact this is a part of me."

"You should think about it. When you're ready."

"You're probably right."

Demyx tried to fix his hair. "Guess I've got to shower again."

"I… should like to find some place less dingy. I wasn't thinking straight. Or at all, really." He sat up slowly, endorphins displaced by a finger of pain behind his eyes. Ienzo flinched without meaning to. 

"...Hey," Demyx said. "You alright?"

"Moved too quick."

"No, you didn't." He tugged on his underwear. "Where does it hurt?"

"It's a headache. Nothing more." He started to grasp at his clothing, digging for a handkerchief to take care of the unfortunate result. 

Demyx touched his shoulders. Ienzo felt the now-familiar warmth as he assessed his condition. "It's tension," he said, with relief. "Just a tension headache, now that you've relaxed."

"As I told you," he said coolly. He stood and continued to dress, feeling more intensely now the dust along his skin. 

"I'm sorry, I just--" 

"I know. I am… fragile." 

Demyx sighed heavily and started getting dressed. "I shouldn't treat you like it." 

He finished buttoning his shirt. "I promise I won't lie if something is the matter. I… I know I have in the past."

"Okay. I… okay."

Ienzo hugged him, smelling sweat and sex and dust. "We should go. Before we're missed."


	2. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that things have settled down, Demyx asks Ienzo on their first date. However, the past crops up unbidden.
> 
> Timeline: after chapter 19 of BtE

Date

The iron was not electric; when Demyx took it off of the stove, it was red-hot, and the handle bit his fingers. He shook out the pain, and let it cool. He hadn’t ever had anything that was nice enough to warrant ironing. He laid the linen onto the ironing board and did his best to get rid of the stubborn wrinkles. Despite himself, and the time that had passed since then, he thought of the days and years of black coats. He shivered a little.

He pulled on the ironed shirt and did up the buttons. Nervousness fizzed in his stomach. This shouldn’t be stressful, and yet it was. Demyx knew he was being silly and probably psyching himself out. In front of the slightly warped mirror in his bedroom, he fussed with his hair. Without the gel, it didn’t quite lay right, even as it got longer. The brown strands still looked odd to him. Like he was slightly someone else. And for the most part, he was.

_ Don’t think about that too hard. _

Demyx bit his lip. He looked about as good as he possibly could, all things considering. He knew from their texts that morning where Ienzo was; as always, in the library. Ienzo lived his life in such a regimented way; if the routine was not shaken, he would do the same thing each day tirelessly. He was working hard, and the memorial project meant so much to him.

Still. He needed a break sometimes.

Demyx had walked these hallways dozens, if not hundreds, of times. Aeleus had started to paint, and the blueness was piercing after the green. It was sign of change, if anything. Change was necessary. Change was unsettling.

Ienzo was sitting in a patch of sunlight, curled slightly like a cat on his chair, taking rapid-fire notes. 

“Hey,” Demyx said softly.

He glanced up slowly. The light made his hair glow. Demyx wasn’t quite used to the new reading glasses, but he did think they were very attractive. “Don’t you look nice,” Ienzo said. He gave him a sly once-over. “Have you had that shirt long?”

The compliment threw him. “It’s new,” he said lamely.

Ienzo got up and approached him. He straightened the collar a little. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well I was hoping…” He bit his lip. Nerves made him blush. “I was wondering if you might like do go on a date with me.”

Ienzo’s hands dropped down to his waist. He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“I mean, we’ve already been together a few months. I figure it’s about time, you know? Isn’t this what people normally do?”

He paused. After a moment, he smiled. “I would love that,” Ienzo said finally. “Though admittedly--I don’t know what that means.”

“I was thinking… that we could get some dinner out. Maybe go for a walk. Spend some time together, outside of here.” He touched his face. “Simple. Right?”

He nodded. “Simple,” he mouthed.

“So what do you say? Are you feeling hungry?”

He chuckled. “I could eat. Though I wonder… if perhaps my outfit is not up to snuff.” 

Demyx stroked the soft material of his black turtleneck. “You always look good.”

“You might be a touch biased. I need to at least take care of this mess.” He tugged at his bangs. 

He smiled. “Then I’ll meet you downstairs in like twenty minutes?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t like anybody pull you away.”

He kissed him. “I’ll try my best.” 

Demyx waited down by the service entrance, drumming his fingers idly on the rusty metal sheeting. It was a lovely early summer day, neither too warm nor too cool. After the long winter the world was finally feeling alive again.

“Getting some fresh air?” Ansem’s voice startled him. Demyx didn’t think he could ever recall seeing Ansem actually  _ outside _ the castle. He was carrying a couple of bundles, his red stole slightly askew.

“Sort of,” Demyx said. “I’m waiting for Ienzo. We’re going out.”

Ansem appraised him a little. “That should be enjoyable,” he said at last, a touch awkwardly.

“I hope so.” 

Ansem hesitated, shifting the bag at his shoulder a little. “Well, I won’t hold you,” he said. “Enjoy your time together.”

Demyx watched him walk away. Clearly Ansem had more to say, though what, and why, he wasn’t sure. Anyway, this really  _ was _ none of his business. 

Ienzo caught up to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Everything alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah.” He smiled quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The whole long walk into town, Ienzo chatted happily about the research he was doing. “I’m studying forms of bereavement and memorialization--specifically concerning the religions and spirituality of this world, but also of others. It’s not as depressing as you might think. I’m hoping to take the most resonant of these ceremonies and symbols and applying them to this project. This is only the early stage, but it feels worthwhile.” There was a spark in his eye that Demyx had not seen in some time, a life. He was reminded of why he fell in love with him in the first place. 

“I almost feel bad taking you away,” Demyx said. 

Ienzo tucked a loose piece of hair behind his left ear. “All this focus on death makes me a tad too aware of my own mortality,” he said, with a grimace. “It is nice to get out and live for once.”

“So what would you like to do?”

He cocked his head slightly. “I thought you had planned something.”

“I mean, I did, but if there’s something else you’d rather do more--”

Ienzo squeezed his hand. “There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I know that,” he said. A blush rose in his cheeks. “But this is kind of just another thing that feels weird that shouldn’t.”

“It does,” Ienzo admitted. “But not in a bad way, right? Like learning anything, it merely takes some practice.”

“I guess so,” he said lamely.

He took Ienzo to one of the only sit-down restaurants in town. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall type place, lined with odd, eclectic tables and chairs. The walls were paneled wood, well-oiled and dark, and the lighting was bright and warm. Someone brought them menus and water. The sight of it made him smile a little. “I’d heard of this place,” Ienzo said. “It was popular when I was a boy. I didn’t realize it had opened back up.” 

“I know. I saw a photo of it on Kingstagram.” 

““Kingstagram?”” Ienzo asked. “You mean the photo program?”

“That’s what the others are calling it,” Demyx said. “I don’t know. It’s kind of easier to say than the name you gave it.”

“I didn’t intend for it to be for mass use,” he said. “Ah, well. Another thing to work on, right? I’m wondering if these gummiphones might be even more useful than we thought. They could potentially have so many different applications. Imagine how much easier things could’ve been in the past.”

“It probably would have enabled me to be even lazier,” Demyx said lightly. “So you might not want to go  _ too _ crazy.”

“I suppose you’re right. But there really are so few models in circulation--a dozen or so in Twilight Town, ours, the committee’s, and the guardians’. Too many more and it could threaten world order. And I’m not sure we’re equipped to deal with something like that right now--literally or figuratively.” He sighed. He thought about this for a few moments, then opened his menu. “I wonder what I should try.”

“Whatever you want. Hell, get extra and we can bring some back for everyone else.”

“...Perhaps,” he said dazedly, skimming the menu with a sort of fervor. 

Demyx looked down at the print too. The font made him a little dizzy, and for a second the text seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He blinked hard. Was reminded of the runes. When had he learned how to read this language, anyway? He couldn’t recall, and he found himself unable to decide what to eat.

The waiter came back. Demyx just repeated the same order as Ienzo.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually eaten at a restaurant before,” Ienzo said. “How’s that for odd?”

“Really? Ansem never took you and the guys out?”

Ienzo shook his head. “He might have, but I think he figured it might have been a little overwhelming for me. Especially if it were crowded. They sometimes brought me food from such places, but I never got to go myself. Now that I’m actually trying all these new things, more than ever I feel like that same scared child.”

“Like you’re only  _ playing _ grown up.”

“Yes--that’s exactly it.”

“I feel that way too,” Demyx said. “I never got to make my own choices. And the few times I did, they weren’t exactly good ones.” He laughed a little.

“You seem more than able to handle such moral quandaries now.”

“I guess so.”

An appetizer was brought out. Steamed dumplings, fresh and perfectly round. It tasted delicious. “I shall have to tell the others about this,” Ienzo said. “It tastes just like I remember. Sensory memory is  _ quite _ intense.”

“Maybe all of us should go out some time.”

“Maybe. That would be nice.”

The actual meal was a brisket pho with bone broth and rice noodles. Everything was very good, almost too good, and he wondered if was weird to cry over soup. He blinked the tears back, cursing his newfound tenderheartedness. “I should like to learn to make noodles by hand,” Ienzo said. “I’ve heard it’s simple.”

“Do that, and you’d basically be godly.”

He chuckled. “Not quite.” He sipped at the broth for a moment. Then, rather more soberly, “Have you thought about your future?”

Demyx furrowed his brows. “...Like?”

“Like…” He stumbled over his words for a moment. “Demyx, are you happy?”

“Weird question for you to ask,” Demyx said evasively. 

“Well, humor me, then.”

He looked down at the smooth wooden chopsticks, the tiny fish carved into the top. “I’m still… shit’s still hard,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if it’s depression, or trauma, or the general weirdness of being alive, but I… I’m unsettled.” He forced himself to look into Ienzo’s eyes. “But I… I love you, if that’s what you were asking. I don’t see that changing any time soon.”

It was Ienzo’s turn to drop his gaze. “I… I also feel very much committed to you. And very much _unsettled_. I’m so used to there being a plan. An end goal, a forward momentum to life. There’s a reason my moniker was “Cloaked Schemer.” And yes, I have projects, and people to love and bond with, but the overall directive of my life?  _ I don’t know. _ ” His lips twitched, a small, nervous smile.

“Maybe your “directive” is to find that out. To pick how you want to live. For yourself.”

“I do not like that.” He wrinkled his nose. 

“For the record, I’m scared too. I’m not used to things  _ mattering _ ,” Demyx said. “When I was a kid there was a sense of futility with the war. And then when I was a Nobody I was so uncaring about everything except for myself, and sometimes even then. Now--”

“You’ve learned empathy.”

That threw him. “Have I?”

Ienzo smirked. “You’re training to be a healer, because you want to stop other people from hurting. If that’s not empathy, I don’t know what is.”

“I just want to do something worthwhile.”

“As do I.” He sighed. “Perhaps we must wait and think about our opportunities. Demyx, I’m discovering I’m  _ not _ a very patient person.”

He smiled. “Well, we’ve done our fair share of waiting, I’d say.” He caught sight of the bar in the corner. “Hey, do you want a drink?”

“I don’t see why not. Nothing too strong, though. It is still early.”

Demyx stood. “I bet you haven’t even been drunk before.  _ That  _ I’d like to see.”

He shrugged. “That’s a story for another time.” 

He kissed him once and crossed back to the bar. A few other patrons were there, having their meals and talking and just generally being  _ normal. _ Demyx had the sudden, icky sensation of watching people like this was a recon mission, even though he was one of them. He shuddered a little.

The backsplash of the bar was odd--clear tile with light shining through, producing an eerie pinkish glow. Was that--he squinted through the rows of bottles. It wasn’t tile at all.

The bartender noticed his gaze. “Cool, right?” she said. “They found it among the ruins. It’s amazing that it didn’t shatter after all it had been through.” She pushed some things around so he could get a better look at it. “It’s super old. The glass is all melty at the bottom, if you look at it closely.”

The shapes, the colors--he tensed.

“We’re not sure what it means, or who made it, but that’s where the place gets its name. The Fox.” 

The memory wound its fingers around his throat. Not just the emblem, but the person behind it. Never her face--she always kept it covered--but the color, the bright pale pink, brought back the sound of her voice--

\-- _ fly away to the world outside-- _

“You alright, buddy?” the bartender asked.

Demyx mumbled something indistinct. Somewhat on autopilot, he turned and left the space. There wasn’t enough air. Even when he got outside he couldn’t breathe. The flashes of memory grew brighter, more painful. Why had she chosen him? Why had she let all this happen? Wasn’t she supposed to protect them, and their memory? Why had she  _ betrayed _ \--?

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jerked. Through glassy, watery vision he saw Ienzo. “Demyx,” he said softly. “You’re alright. We’re safe. Take a deep breath.”

His lungs felt like they had petrified. Ienzo gently guided him over to a nearby bench and started rubbing his back. 

“It’s just a memory,” he continued in that soothing voice. “It can’t hurt you anymore.” 

His pulse was still racing. The back of his throat felt raw. Demyx set his head in his hands. Eventually, he could breathe again, though he was still a trembling wreck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This was supposed to be fun, and I--”

“It’s alright,” Ienzo said sternly. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy--cold--”

“Maybe we should go home.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to go inside.”

“Alright,” he said. He took Demyx’s hand. “We can stay here as long as you like.”

“I thought I was okay. I really--”

“This isn’t a linear process.” 

“I don’t know how it got there.” 

“What?”

“That mosaic.”

Ienzo glanced briefly back into the restaurant. “At the bar?”

“It was her mask, Ienzo. I’m sure of it.”

“...Whose?”

“Master Ava’s.” Saying it felt like he was casting a curse. He shuddered.

“...The Dandelion leader?” Ienzo frowned. “That is rather odd… but you do realize that if that was before the World fractured into pieces, it’s not entirely unusual for bits of the past to wash up all over, so to speak.” He sighed. “But I’m sure that doesn’t make you feel better.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was jagged and broken. 

“You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He wrapped his arms around him. Demyx couldn’t help but give into the comfort. “I am… uncomfortably aware of these aberrations of memory.” 

“PTSD bros for life,” Demyx muttered. 

Ienzo chuckled. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to him. The cloth was soft against his eyes. “Would you like to go for a walk? Get your mind off it?”

He nodded. The sunlight was warm and insistent, shaking the chill of the panic. As always, he was unsettled. His new and old selves brushed up against one another painfully. A complicated dance. Ienzo stood to his left. Though Demyx couldn’t see it through the hair, he was sure Ienzo was watching him warily.

“A lovely day,” he said casually. “It’s nice to get some fresh air.”

“Ienzo?”

He turned his head slightly.

“Do you also feel a disconnect with your past?”

Ienzo hesitated. “I suppose the word should be “dissonance”. But for me… and this may sound strange… things are a touch fuzzier than they once were.” He smiled, but it was an odd expression. “My memories used to have an intense, painful clarity to them, with a few exceptions. I think this has something to do with my power. But now that I no longer have it, it is no longer so clear-cut. My memory now is… merely above-average. So, I suppose in a sense, that dullness makes it hard to believe that person is me.” They walked another hundred or so meters. “But our cases are completely different. For a good deal of your life, and at a crucial point in your development, you had nothing. You had to form a whole new concept of self just to be functional. Basically, it’s like comparing apples to oranges.”

“It’s like my skin doesn’t fit.” 

“Yes. How do you feel about this new self of yours?” There was something of a playful seriousness to his tone.

“He’s alright, I guess. You?”

Ienzo blinked, his expression smoothing, becoming neutral. “The jury’s out on that one.” 

“Ienzo--”

“I am working hard to see the good in myself. But you must understand that this is a complex rationalization of  _ years _ of unrepentant mistakes and lies.” He nodded slightly, as though to himself. 

“Well, like you said. Morality isn’t simple.”

“...No.”

His hand, in Demyx’s, was cool and dry. Demyx liked how their hands always fit together just right. 

“If you could choose,” Ienzo said suddenly, “To go back to the way things were, would you?”

He actually stopped in his tracks for a moment. “What kind of question is that?”

“Mere curiosity,” he stuttered, turning a bit pink. “I wonder… how things would have turned out, otherwise. It’s a sort of masochistic thought experiment. Forget I asked. It was tactless.”

Demyx shook his head slightly. “How far back do you mean? Before the first Organization? Or before the second?”

“...The fact that we have to distinguish,” he said with a sigh. 

“But neither of us got to choose. That’s kind of how this all started.” His mind was spinning. To go back to being Demyx Number Nine, with all the absolute garbage and bullshittery that entailed, made him feel physically sick. “No. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” The implications of it were jarring. “That means… we probably wouldn’t…” He bit his lip. 

“I could not either,” he admitted. “For longer than I’d like to admit, I entertained that fantasy, in the first horrible days after I was recompleted. Everything was just so very overwhelming otherwise. To pretend I could not feel, that I was who I used to be, was all too tempting. Especially as I lay there recovering, unable to speak because I was still healing…” His free hand unconsciously brushed against his throat. “To go back to hurting people, and allowing myself to be manipulated… that thought is still more jarring.”

“We can choose now. Like you said. Agency, right?”

“Yes.” 

They stopped for a moment to rest. This close to the castle, Demyx could see the spread of the town below. He hadn’t ever been in one place so long--at least, not in his adult life. Strange to think that this would likely be his home for the foreseeable future. He couldn’t wrap his head around permanence. 

Ienzo slid an arm around his waist and leaned into him. “What are you thinking of now?”

“Stability. How weird of an idea it is.”

“I suppose it is if you had no prior concept of it. Accepting that has been difficult for me as well.” He touched his chest. “Learning to trust. To be vulnerable. To speak about and think about emotion.” He wrinkled his nose. “Strange. But necessary.” Ienzo looked up at Demyx and lightly drew his fingers against his cheek. “I  _ do _ love you. I feel as though you sometimes need a reminder.”

Demyx kissed him softly. It was nearly opposite of their first kiss; long and slow and without fear. They stayed there for a moment, forehead against forehead.

“Shall we… shall we head back?” Ienzo asked.

“I’d like that.”


	3. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo has trouble sleeping.
> 
> Timeline: after chapter 19

Insomnia

Ienzo could not stop his eyes from fluttering shut. Demyx’s cheerful, lively chatter seemed to go in one ear and out the other, leaving him with bits and fragments.

“--you would not  _ believe  _ what the guy had done, somehow got the handle  _ in his eye _ . We had to sedate him but he was still freaking out--”

“--the thing is after that, he could still see--”

“--And then after that he used the same pan, the same fucking pan, to make noodles for us as a thank you. I mean, of course he washed it, but it’s just wild--”

The chatter faded to a dull hum, and for a second there was no sound, nothing at all. His head snapped up. Demyx had pursed his lips in exasperation. “You know,” he said, “You could have told me to shut up, instead of letting me  _ literally _ bore you to sleep.”

Ienzo rubbed his eyes. They were hot, and raw. “It’s not that,” he said. “I’m simply  _ very _ tired.” 

“Long day?” he asked. 

“Not quite.” A little flutter of anxiety made him shiver. “I think I may be catching cold.” 

“Oh, yeah, something’s really going around. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Demyx reached over and touched Ienzo’s forehead. Ienzo, in his exhaustion, realized how stupid it was to lie about sickness when he had a healer sitting right across from him. “That’s weird. I don’t  _ feel _ anything off. You want me to get you one of the cures anyway?”

Ienzo hesitated. Thinking seemed physically difficult. He could not quite string the right words together. “I likely just need some rest.”

“So go get some sleep, babe. You don’t have anything to do this afternoon, right?”

He almost told Demyx. He should’ve. It was a hard thing to admit. Still harder when his mind felt so foggy. “Well--I told Ansem that I would help him debug that new operating system--”

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” His eyes were so soft, crinkling slightly at the corners, as they always did when he was concerned. “Do you want some tea or something? It might make you feel bet--”

“I am fine.” The words came out sharply. 

Demyx frowned. “If you insist,” he muttered.

Ienzo sighed. “I apologize. I suppose I’m a bit grouchy.”

He crossed his arms. “I probably need a nap too. I was using magic all morning.” He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. “So I guess I’ll catch you later?”

Ienzo nodded, and watched him leave. This was no good. He had to try again. How long had it been exactly since he’d last slept? It was hard to tell. Too long.

He crossed back over to his bedroom. He was starting to detest this space, its claustrophobia, the drafty window. Ienzo settled himself in bed, another shudder of anxiety breaking the ease of stillness. He shut his eyes. Counted to ten, then twenty, then a hundred, trying to soften his muscles. The bed was comfortable. There was nothing wrong with the bed.

The fact that it was the middle of the day made no difference. The same thing happened at night. It seemed as though every night that passed since the coma made sleep a more distant memory. There was also the fact that he’d become accustomed to sharing the space, and being held, and Demyx’s odd training schedule meant he was now often alone at night. He wasn’t used to dependence, and certainly didn’t like how it felt. Ienzo had been so self-sufficient for so long, and this felt like an even bigger setback.

He drew the second pillow into his arms, as though that might calm the achy anxiety brewing in his stomach. Tried to breathe.

Progress was not linear. He’d hoped to be the exception to that rule; after all, he’d slipped through the cracks so many times, what was one more? 

He wanted sleep. Needed sleep. His body ached for it. It was entirely psychological, he knew; if he didn’t stress so much about it, likely it would come more easily. But stress was a constant of this life, always pulling him tauter still, even in the rare moments of comfort. 

Okay, so, maybe he didn’t need sleep, maybe it was fine enough just resting and breathing, and breathing and resting. It was going to be fine.

He was fine.

* * *

It had grown dark outside. Ienzo was still, horribly, conscious. Wasn’t there something wrong with him? Why was he allowing himself to get so worked up about this? Why was he wasting so much time? He should be helping Ansem. 

He was a touch dizzy when he got up. How he hated having to be corporeal, how finicky and needy the body was, all the time. He went into the bathroom and washed his face, holding the cool cloth over his eyes for a long moment. They ached. 

Ansem was, predictably, still hard at work. He was, as far as Ienzo knew, balancing several projects at once, but he was really most invested in anything involving data, especially the fine line between reality and code itself. The new operating system was meant to house code in a more stable manner that was less stressful on their machines. Gummi blocks were always the best replacement parts and lasted far longer than any metal or plastic, but they were hard to come by, so they had to preserve what they had for as long as possible.

“Hello, Ienzo,” Ansem said cheerfully. “Demyx said you were resting. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Of course he’d said something. Ienzo bit his lip. Demyx had become almost uncomfortably protective of his health, but how could Ienzo blame him? How many times had he escaped death now, exactly? (Best not to dwell on that.) “Made any progress?” He flinched at the poor structure of his speech.

“It’s coming along fairly well, all things considered. A couple of minor glitches here and there, but that’s to be anticipated. I believe soon we can start converting over all of our files. Perhaps it might be possible to make it compatible with the gummiphone too, so one can access things on the go. Our hardware isn’t yet necessarily up to par yet but I’m hoping that--”

A finger of pain stabbed him behind the eyes. Ienzo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you alright?” Ansem asked.

“Bit of a headache.” He forced a smile. “Would you mind repeating that?”

Ansem turned slightly in his chair. “If you are unwell, you shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I am fine,” he reasserted.

“Ienzo, forgive me, but I had raised you to believe in honesty.”

He felt the blood rush to his face, along with a bitterness. “You weren’t around long, though, were you?”

Ansem’s complexion, in the blue light of the screen, was ashen.

Ienzo swallowed and touched his throat. “Master, I--”

“No. You’re correct in that regard.”

The silence had a weight to it. 

“Ienzo. You’re allowed to be angry with me.”

“It wasn’t as if you  _ chose _ to be thrown into the Realm of Darkness.”

“Heavens, no. But you were told something else entirely, something which you then internalized for months on end--years. Lies are much harder to erase than the truth.” Ansem stood and placed his hands on Ienzo’s shoulders. “I was a fool, a coward. Rather than taking responsibility for my actions, I instead became embittered and sought revenge. You paid the price for my poor decisions.” His rust-colored eyes bore into Ienzo’s, unnervingly. “How is it you feel, truly?”

“I feel…” His heart was racing. “I feel so…” Allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of Ansem was a new kind of pain, but in his exhaustion he didn’t have the strength to fight off these thoughts. “I  _ am _ angry. At you. At myself. At everything. I  _ thought _ that once I laid it all to rest I would feel at peace but I--”

His gaze was so calm. Ienzo could not bear to look at him. 

“I cannot sleep,” he said. He hugged himself tightly. “If not for the nightmares.” 

“What is it you dream about?” Ansem asked gently.

“Oh, any number of unpleasant things.” There was something like pressure rising within him, and he wondered if he might be sick. “The day they told me you’d gone mad. When they cut me down. Death, destruction, hellfire… these.” He brushed his hand over his shoulder, and the scars covered by his shirt. Ienzo was aware he was sounding a little unhinged. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my _ self. _ ” A razor-sharp pain stuck in his throat. He touched it. The lump forming there seemed to have stopped the torrent of words.

“You are not  _ losing _ ,” Ansem said. “You are growing, and healing. Processing this trauma is a sign that you’ve stopped protecting yourself from others. Which, believe it or not, is a strength.”

Heat built behind his eyes. “I’ve told Demyx more or less the same,” he mumbled. “Why don’t I believe it?”

“Knowing and feeling are entirely separate.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. His chest spasmed a little with a sob. He was not going to get out of here with his dignity intact.

“You’ve had to rely on yourself for far too long,” Ansem said softly. “I hope that will change.”

He felt the first tears break free. He was simply too tired to fight anymore. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so--”

Ansem drew Ienzo gently into his arms. Ienzo was a trembling mess. It took a concerted effort to allow himself to cry freely and be comforted, though once he did it seemed like he couldn’t stop. This was only worsened by the fact that Ansem smelled  _ exactly _ like he remembered, like powder and coffee and oranges. Ansem didn’t say anything, and merely rubbed Ienzo’s back in slow circles until the sobs subsided. 

The horrible tension of it all had eased, leaving him drained and humiliated. He swiped at his face. 

“Come,” Ansem said. “I’ll make you some tea. You’ve had a long day.”

That night, even though he lay in bed alone, he slept deeply, and without dreams.


	4. Gesture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo has a gift for Demyx.

Timeline: about six months after chapter 19.

**This short is** **NSFW.**

Gesture

The phrase just wasn’t flowing right.

Demyx sighed and looked back down at the composition. He bit the cap off the pen, scratched out the line, and changed the triplet run to eighth notes. He picked through the phrase again, absently, half-assedly. Something was still off. Was it the key? He’d debated it for a while, considering F Major versus E flat. 

Maybe the whole thing was just shit.

His hand trembled, crumpling the corner of the page. Part of him wanted to rip it up and throw it out, but the last time he’d done that Ienzo had yelled at him.  _ Come back to it later. Something might still be salvageable. _

Making music used to be so easy. The sound would pour from him, emotion twisting through the notes with an uncomfortable ease--all the more ironic because then, he’d largely been unable to feel. Now… everything he made seemed so… flat, so inauthentic, technically good but lacking depth, or nuance.

Demyx set the book down and hefted Arpeggio more comfortably in his arms. He took a deep breath. He played some scales, letting the rhythm vary in complexity.

_ Just play how you feel. _

How did he feel?

He didn’t need the words. He didn’t need to decide. It didn’t  _ need  _ to be good. It could just be an expression, an exploration. 

For a few minutes the world disappeared around him, and the ever-present background hum of anxiety quieted. It wasn’t creation for the act of it, but for the joy of it. Things almost felt normal; or at least the way they were with Arpeggio.

Demyx opened his eyes, and found Ienzo sitting several paces away from him in the library, watching intently with a small smile. Demyx jumped a little, a discordant note echoing in the space.

“I’m sorry,” Ienzo said. “I… I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He took another breath. “It’s okay.”

“I did message you,” he said. 

“Oh, I turned off the text tone. Sorry about that.”

Ienzo sat next to him on the floor. The early summer sunlight was bright and warm. “That was lovely.”

Demyx shook his head. “It was nothing. Just… letting my mind wander, is all.”

Ienzo reached towards Arpeggio, then hesitated.

He smiled a little. “It’s okay. It’s not like the Keyblade. You can touch it if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to break anything--”

“You won’t.”

Ienzo brushed his finger against one of the strings, the open string pinging softly. “It seems to me very complicated.”

“It isn’t. Believe me, if I can figure it out, you can too. Would you want to learn?”

He thought about it. “Maybe someday.” He leaned against Demyx’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Demyx shook his head a little bit. “Just thinking that writing music hasn’t been as easy as it used to be.”

Ienzo frowned and looked up at him. “How so?”

“It just used to come so easily.” He let Arpeggio fade away so they could lean against one another more comfortably. “And it sounded good, but I just… everything seems so… flat. Not genuine. Not nuanced. Nothing special.” Demyx laughed awkwardly. “I made better stuff as an emotionless shell.”

He seemed to think about it for a minute. “Of course it would be harder to articulate emotions you’re not used to having. Artistically or otherwise.”

“I know, but… I figured that with a heart things would be more… heartfelt. You know?”

He laughed. “I’m sure you’re just being hard on yourself. I  _ know _ you’re talented. You merely have to grow into this new artistic capacity. Because things  _ do _ and  _ will _ feel different. And it won’t be easy. Even if it is something you love doing.”

Demyx sighed. “I guess so. I want to… make something worth remembering, you know?”

Ienzo squeezed his hand. “You will.”

“So what’s up?”

“There’s something I wanted to show you, actually.” He offered his hands. “Or are you busy?”

His heart fluttered. “I’m not busy.”

Demyx followed Ienzo down several different hallways. He had no idea what he had planned, or what he wanted to “show” him. They ended up on a floor that was laid out like the one where they lived; a narrow hallway with not too much natural light, with doors leading towards empty, vacant rooms. His breath caught a little. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I was hoping to find a… more comfortable space.” Ienzo stuttered a little. “Not just for… us, but where we can also individually have our own space, too. This place came to mind. Come.” He tugged on Demyx’s hand and opened one of the doors.

It was a modest sized apartment; but compared to their rooms, it was huge. Wide windows with gauzy curtains let in a lot of light. He could smell cleaning products. Warmth welled up in him, and he felt tears in his eyes. Ienzo had been thinking about this for a while. Preparing it, too. Demyx started to notice the smaller details; books, knick-knacks, the record player and records, and the bed, too, neatly made with a soft lavender quilt.

“What do you think?” Ienzo asked. 

Something like a sob left his mouth, and he covered it.

Ienzo touched his arm. “This doesn’t have to be a step if you don’t want it to be,” he said softly. “It’s only somewhere… clean, to go. My clothing smells like dust from the library. I think my back would be thankful for it as well.”

He dabbed at the inevitable tears. “This is so… I love it. I do.”

“I’m afraid I can’t be romantic or spontaneous in the traditional sense.”

“This is perfect.” He embraced Ienzo, feeling so much love he couldn’t help but cry a little. Ienzo rubbed his back in slow, even circles. 

“You’ve never been given a gift, have you?” Ienzo asked.

“No. Not… not really.” Demyx mopped at his eyes again. “How did you do all this?”

“How?” He raised an eyebrow. “The furniture was already here. All it took was some cleaning. A little bit of rearranging. I quite enjoyed it, actually. If you don’t like it, we can change things around.” He surveyed his handiwork. “In a way, it was… cathartic. I never really got to build my own home before, out of choice. I needed this, too.”

They sat at the foot of the bed. It was softer than Demyx was used to, and a little bit bigger than Ienzo’s. 

“What do you think?” Ienzo asked cautiously.

“I think…” He was feeling almost a bit dizzy. “Well. It’d be nice to be out from under their noses.”

“Precisely.”

“And… how does it go? “...everyone needs a room of their own, to do their thinking in?””

Ienzo flushed.“...Did you just paraphrase Virginia Woolf?”

“I do read sometimes, you know.”

“I find you so very attractive, do you know that?”

“...You can remind me every once in a while.”

Ienzo kissed him. The brightness and warmth of the space soothed him and helped him let go of the anxiety he’d been carrying around. It was okay not to worry. They were safe here. 

For a while they kissed, gentle and lush. It felt like getting reacquainted, like finding one another again. He couldn’t get over the fact that Ienzo had done this for him; for them, really. It was still so so strange to be loved. Demyx pulled him a bit closer. “I love you,” he said, more against Ienzo’s mouth than he meant.

Ienzo laughed a little. “And I you.” He kissed Demyx a little more deeply, and Demyx let his lips part. A creeping heat started to build inside of him, from his heart down. Ienzo ran his lips--and was that his tongue?--along his jaw and throat, and Demyx stifled a moan. 

"Experimenting again?" he asked thickly.

"With you? Always."

"You didn't have to do all this if all you wanted was sex. I'm an easy lay."

Ienzo laughed. “That wasn’t my original intention, but I have to admit, it is quite a bonus.” He started working at the buttons of Demyx’s shirt, returning to his throat and collarbone. Longing began to tighten in a knot in his stomach, and he felt himself getting hard. This wasn’t like the early days of their relationship, where every touch had to be carefully negotiated, lest it overwhelm them both. There was freedom in it. Comfort.

Especially because there was no risk of getting walked in on.

He ran his hands through Ienzo’s hair, drinking in the feather-light softness. Ienzo snaked one leg around his waist, bringing him still closer, and then a moment later Demyx was abruptly and somewhat gracelessly pushed down on the mattress. He couldn’t quite suppress the giggle that caught in his mouth. 

Ienzo smiled, a strand of hair falling back into his flushed face. “I’m not exactly a great seducer, am I?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He nodded, his expression slipping somewhat. “But this is… this is all okay, right? I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“Trust me, I’ll tell you if I’m not okay with something.”

“Your comfort is important to me.”

Demyx cupped Ienzo’s face. Ienzo leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, and then kissed his palm. He reached down to take off his own shirt, and Demyx helped him with the bottom buttons. Ienzo was trembling a little, and though Demyx didn’t, he could feel it inwardly. 

He ran his hands down Ienzo’s back, all smoothness and softness. Ienzo gasped a little, and the way they were pressed Demyx could feel the reaction. “I love your hands,” he said breathlessly. 

“Am I just that good?”

His eyes were still half-shut. “It’s the calluses,” he explained, as though embarrassed. “I like the way it feels.”

He smiled. “Was that so hard?” he kissed him softly. “It helps when you tell me these things.”

“I know.” Ienzo shifted his weight and tried to take off his pants, falling partially onto Demyx, who snuck a kiss before helping him out of his clothing.

“I used to think you were graceful,” Demyx said.

“Me? Whatever gave you that idea?” Ienzo unbuttoned his jeans, trailing his lips briefly against Demyx’s stomach and the web of scars there.

The sudden surge of feeling choked the breath out of him. “I… holy shit.” Briefly, he was disoriented. “You kind of look the part.”

Ienzo set his jeans on the floor. “Do I?”

“Small, slender. Kind of lithe.”

“I must be something of a disappointment, then.”

“No. Not even. Not at all.” Demyx pulled him close, loving the way their bare bodies felt pressed together, the rawness of skin and a tangle of emotion. “Do you… do you have lube, anywhere?”

“I’m not naive.” Ienzo got off the bed briefly and dug in a dresser drawer. “Would you mind moving the blanket? I’m rather fond of it, and this stuff stains. As I found out the hard way.”

He listened, and lay back more towards the headboard and the pillows there. “But the sheets are fair game?” This had to be the most casual they’d ever been about intimacy. He liked the way it felt. Real. 

He scoffed a little. “Easier to hide the evidence.” Ienzo crossed back over to him, tracing the rim of the bottle with his thumb. “I was thinking--” His voice hitched a little with nerves. Demyx took his free hand.

“What?”

He stammered a little. “What if I were… on top of you?”

A shimmer of arousal went through him. “You mean inside me?” Demyx’s voice cracked, and he flinched inwardly. 

“Not quite… I’m not sure I’m ready for that. More like…” He straddled him again. “Like this? Is that possible?”

Demyx’s face was burning. “I’ve never tried it that way, but I don’t see why not.” He kissed Ienzo and felt him relax a bit more against him. Demyx reached down and stroked him gently. Ienzo gasped and hardened a little more. He fumbled for the lube against the sheets until the bottle was pressed against his hand. It was a bit awkward to find the spot, especially because Ienzo was now kissing his throat in a way that was  _ very _ distracting. Want pulsed under his skin. He found it, though, and slipped his fingers slowly into the warmth and heat, one at a time. Ienzo’s eyes rolled just a little bit. “Is that okay?”

“It feels different. But it’s good.” He took some lube onto his palm and gently spread it across Demyx’s dick. “Maybe if you… sit up a little bit.” Ienzo spoke with difficulty, the way he did only when he was very distracted or turned on. “Against the headboard.”

He stacked some pillows so it would be comfortable. “I kind of like you telling me what to do.”

Ienzo kissed him. “I need your help.”

There was a bit more fumbling. It didn’t help that he couldn’t really  _ see _ where he was going, but after a moment or so he felt the tip against Ienzo and pressed up slowly. The friction was much needed, blurring the world around him a little bit. He heard Ienzo gasp. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were shut. “Yes.” He swallowed.

Demyx pushed in a little more and heard him make another small sound. “Are you sure?”

“It feels… different. Like… more. I… I like it.”

It did make sense; with him on the bottom, there was probably quite a lot more pressure, which wasn’t always a good thing. But it wasn’t like Demyx was an expert in these things. “Go as fast or slow as you want.”

Ienzo nodded very seriously. He pressed his hands against Demyx’s shoulders and kissed him before starting to move, tentatively. 

It was different for Demyx too, the angle and the way he went inside of him brushing against him in a wholly new way. A moan caught in his throat, and self-consciousness washed through him for a moment before he remembered that there was no one around to hear them. 

Ienzo broke off the kiss, burying his face against Demyx’s shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, making soft noises unlike anything Demyx had heard from him; knowing how much Ienzo was enjoying this only turned him on more, and he bucked up against him. 

“Do that again,” Ienzo said hoarsely.

It took a moment or two to find the right rhythm for it to work, but they did. Demyx felt not-quite-embodied, waves of pure feeling washing over him. He really wanted to make Ienzo feel good for as long as possible, but the intensity of this made him doubt his stamina. He tried to hold back. Each thrust was all the more tempting, especially as Ienzo became more confident. “You feel good,” Demyx whispered. “You feel so--”

He was silenced with a kiss. It was easier to focus on this than the heightening tension boiling inside of him. He tried desperately to hold it back. 

“I’m going to--” Ienzo stuttered.

_ Oh thank god. _ Demyx tightened his arms around him, pulling him deeper. Ienzo moaned against his shoulder, and as soon as he could feel the telltale warmth it snapped within him, flooding him with brightness and making him shake. He could understand now why Ienzo had fainted that time in the library. It was almost too potent.

They were still tangled breathlessly. They pulled apart. Ienzo lay against him. He also trembled faintly. 

“You okay?” Demyx asked, when he trusted himself to speak.

He felt Ienzo nod against his chest.

“You go quiet?”

Another nod.

“Let’s just… chill for a while.” He could feel the residuals of it. “You let me know what you need.”

He felt Ienzo press a kiss against whatever skin was closest to his mouth. Maybe he wasn’t autistic, but he thought he could almost understand that level of total overstimulation--his skin was almost too sensitive to the touch, just that little kiss sending another shudder through him. It was almost  _ too much _ pleasure.

It was clear they still had a lot to get used to, when it came to this.

Demyx wasn’t sure how much time passed, exactly; he dozed, not quite sleeping, not quite awake. When he came to fully, he felt more or less back to normal, except for the fact that he was simultaneously thirsty and desperate to pee, which seemed sadistic. Ienzo was awake against him, one eye trained on the window. “Hey, so uh, please tell me there’s a bathroom, or I might be in some trouble.”

Silently, he sat up and pointed to a closed door at the edge of the room, which Demyx immediately took advantage of. Desperation eased, he accidentally caught sight of himself in the old mirror as he washed his hands. This was  _ their _ space, he realized. Not shared. Not duly offered.

It was as he was having the realization that he noticed the blooming bruises along his neck. “Son of a--” He choked on a laugh. He walked back over to the bed and showed the fresh hickies to Ienzo. “You made your mark, all right.”

Ienzo chuckled a bit, then touched the fresh bruises. He gestured to his own neck. 

Demyx gave him a good look. Ienzo was, if anything, even fairer than he was; reddish splotches were forming in and around his scars, too. “Yep. You’ve got some. Not as many as me. Because I have  _ manners. _ ”

He sighed heavily.

“I can fix it, though. It’s just bruises.” Demyx reached toward him, to heal him, but Ienzo shied away from his touch. “What?”

He tried to speak, but there was no sound; he seemed momentarily frustrated by this. He pointed to his pants, on the floor.

Demyx got it. “You want your phone?” He gave it to him.

He’d never been around Ienzo when one of these nonverbal periods was long enough to impede communication. Truthfully, he felt a bit awkward. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, but it was bizarre to see. Ienzo tapped something rapidly. He showed him the screen.  _ Leave it _ .

“Why? It’s really not a big deal for me to fix. Bruises are like, level zero healing.”

He hesitated, his thumb flicking against the gummiphone’s case.  _ I’ve never had a mark left on me that wasn’t from pain. _

Demyx’s breath caught. “Oh.”

_ Is that a weird thing to want? _

“No. I don’t think so.” He touched Ienzo’s throat. “Your shirt should cover it. You’re used to that.”

A nod.

“Can I ask you something? Is there something I can do to make it easier when you can’t talk? I mean. If we have our own space now, who knows when you’ll ever talk again. You know.”

He snorted.  _ New or surprising things tend to trigger the spells. But you’re handling it well enough, all things considered. The gummiphone makes it easier. I used to have to write in the lexicon or in a notebook. _

“What about sign languages?”

_ That would mean that the person I’m speaking to would also have to know the language. I considered it, when I was nearly mute. But when I started speaking more, I didn’t really have the time to learn, and the utility didn’t outweigh the effort needed. _ His eyes glinted.  _ Though if we stay here long enough, it might have to be considered. _

Demyx kissed him, once. “Just let me know how I can help you, if you need it.”

He nodded. He set the phone aside and rested his hand against Demyx’s heart. 

“I love you too.”


	5. Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx helps give Ienzo a haircut, but this is not as simple as it seems.

Hair

Weekends, Demyx insisted, were for resting. So here Ienzo was. Doing  _ nothing. _ As time passed, he felt less guilt for doing so. He needed time for himself. To rest the mind. 

He brushed the hair away from his shoulder, only for it to settle back into place. It was a tangible signifier of weeks and months passing. He never minded the weight of it. But it was long enough that it was starting to tickle his collarbone, noticeable enough to be irritating.

“I brought you some tea.” Demyx shoved a mug into his peripheral. 

“Sweet of you. Thanks.”

He pecked him on the cheek and then settled into the armchair opposite Ienzo. He’d been calmly composing all morning, transcribing recordings of his own songs from the gummiphone. Ienzo found he did not mind spending time together separately, so to speak. A companionable silence.

“What are you reading?”

“A trashy mystery novel,” he said. “It’s obvious the nephew did it. Yet these idiots keep blathering on and ignoring the  _ complex _ foreshadowing.”

He smiled a little. “So why not read something else?”

“I’m this far into it. I might as well finish the job.” 

“You know. You can  _ like _ shitty things.”

“I know.”

He tried to get back into the story, but he could feel the hair there, rubbing despite the shirt he wore. Pulling it away from his eyes also caused a certain uncomfortable level of sensory input. He huffed, a touch unconsciously.

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “You having problems?”

“It’s--this mess,” Ienzo said emphatically, tugging at his bangs. “It’s getting too long. Too unmanageable.”

“Want me to fix it for you?”

“What?”

“I can fix it. I’ve always cut my own hair.” 

Ienzo bit his lip. “I don’t exactly think our sensibilities quite match.” He’d been all-too-pleased when Demyx grew out the mullet, replacing it with a more mature (well, for him) undercut. 

Demyx scoffed. “I wouldn’t change anything. Just cut off the extra bits.”

Ienzo considered. He was too sensitive about this for it to go on much longer. “All right. Fine.”

Demyx stood and offered his hands. “Step into my office.” He carried a chair into the bathroom. “Wet down your hair. I’m going to go find some scissors.”

Ienzo did as he said. The water in the bathtub was cold against his skin, and he shuddered. Kneeling over it like this was also not comfortable. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders. The more time passed, the more he was convinced that humanity was an endless list of small problems which needed small solutions. What to make for dinner. What to do with one’s appearance. After so long living with heavily macroscopic, high-stakes problems requiring complex thought and planning, Ienzo realized that he found these little problems more stressful. Oddly enough.

Demyx came back with a pair of sewing shears and a comb. “I’m back. Pop a squat.”

A cool wave of anxiety washed over him, and his hands trembled where they held the towel. Demyx parted his wet hair and began to delicately snip at the strands on Ienzo’s left side. Seeing the silvery clumps fall to the floor send another shudder through him, as though he were shedding his skin.

“Are you cold?” Demyx asked. 

“Perhaps a little. There was no hot water.” The lie made him feel a bit guilty. “Did you know that the human body continually changes its own cells? Eventually, after about seven years, you’ll have a completely new one. Bones and all.”

“Really?” He kept trimming carefully, every now and again making sure he had the right length. “What made you think of that?”

“Well, seeing all this hair made me realize that someday I’ll have a body completely unaffected by all that trauma.”

“How do you feel about that?” Demyx moved from left to right. His gaze was intense and focused.

“It’s yet another reminder that this is the next phase of my life. Part of me still feels as though I may wake up back in that castle.”

“It was your home for almost twelve years.” He said this matter-of-fact. “No matter how shitty it was, it’s part of you. You want your bangs to come down to your chin, right?”

“Yes.” Ienzo wished he could see what Demyx was doing. The soft snip of the scissors by his ear was not helping the anxious knot in his stomach. Demyx hefted the hair gently, fitting in the layers, checking the length on both sides. He seemed sure enough of himself, and Ienzo tried to take comfort in this. 

“Almost done,” he said. “I’ll just clean up the back a bit.”

Ienzo could feel the scissors, cool and sharp at the nape of his neck--

_ \--An icy sharp hand wrapping around his throat-- _

And the next thing he knew he heard the scissors clattering loudly against the wall. He’d pulled himself tightly into a ball, one hand cupped around his neck as though for protection. The water in the tub was running, and Demyx was washing off a jagged slash against his wrist. Ienzo tried to speak, to apologize, but no sound came. Demyx whispered a spell over the wound and it healed. He approached Ienzo slowly, but he could see that he was guarding himself. 

“Hey,” Demyx said softly. “You alright?”

Ienzo cleared his throat and coughed a little. Not silence; just shock. “I’m truly sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I felt the sharpness against the scars and I could  _ remember _ \--”

“I thought that’s what it was,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“This is something that hasn’t affected me in a long while. It didn’t even cross my mind.” He was shivering all over, numb. “Your wrist--”

“It’s fine,” he said. He showed it to Ienzo; there was nothing but a quickly-fading red mark. “See? No harm done.”

Ienzo forced himself to uncurl and looked behind him. The scissors had broken in two against the tile wall, and there was a faint--but noticeable--spray of blood. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Demyx said. “Can I touch you?”

He hesitated. This was the second time he’d hurt Demyx in one of these spells. It was all entirely unconscious and out of self-protection, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t regret it. He nodded a little. Demyx took the towel off of his shoulders and drew him gently into his arms. Ienzo tried to ground himself, to put some distance between himself and the memory.

\-- _ “You know, he’s a good a place to start as any.”-- _

It was all too bright, too rich, too vivid. His breath was hot in his throat. The replica had strangled him with one hand, yet the darkness had sliced into him all around, like a noose. 

It was not easy to remember how to die.

Eventually, eventually, the panic started to fade, leaving him fraught with exhaustion and vaguely achy. He wiped at his eyes. Demyx held him out at arm’s length. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I…  _ despise _ what these memories do to me.”

“I’m fine,” Demyx reasserted. “Look, I should have known better than to touch you with something sharp. Trauma isn’t all that smart.”

“Aren’t you angry me? Or at least afraid?”

Demyx furrowed his eyebrows. “Would you feel better if I were mad at you?”

Ienzo groaned and put his head in his hands. “No,” he conceded. “I am… humiliated.”

“You couldn’t help it.”

“Even so. Why are you always so gentle with me?”

“Do you feel like you don’t deserve that? Because that’s the vibe I’m getting right now.”

Ienzo cursed his insightfulness. 

Demyx knelt so that they were roughly eye level. “I don’t mind taking care of you, because I love you. That’s what we do. We look out for each other.” He sighed. “I don’t know if this… helps, but you know that if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here right now? You wouldn’t have changed, or grown. I’m not saying that invalidates how absolutely horrible you feel right now. But you’ve got another chance.”

He looked at his hands, which still visibly shook. “Factually, I know that. I know that my death was necessary. And yet… I am haunted.”

“I am too,” Demyx said softly. He touched a small spot under his ribs, and then shook his head. 

Ienzo took Demyx’s hand and kissed the healing mark. Touch was grounding. He wrapped his arms around his waist and rested against him for a while, listening to his heart beat. The terrible trembling stopped, slowly. He felt, if not better, at the very least stable. 

Demyx stroked his hair slowly to the ends. "I'm guessing this bit will wait a while," he said to the top of Ienzo's head. He brushed his fingers against the scars hesitantly, but skin wasn't nearly as frightening as the sharp scissors. "I can fix this."

Ienzo looked up.

"The… the scars." He bit his lip. "I can heal them. Maybe not all the way, but… maybe a little. Would you want that?"

Ienzo cupped his throat. "I…"

"You don't have to. But I know how you feel about them."

"Would that be ignoble of me, to want them gone?" He tried to imagine it. At the very least, he wouldn't have to worry if his shirt would cover them.

"No. Not at all."

"If only you could dull the memory." 

"I wish I could." Demyx kissed his forehead. "You can think about it. I just… I hate seeing you in pain."

He didn't even have to ponder it. “I want you to try. To fix it, I mean.”

He pressed his forehead against Ienzo’s. “Okay. I can… I’ll do my best.” 

Ienzo touched his throat. He wasn’t erasing the memories, or the way they’d made him change. Just the scars. This was not something he needed to move forward. “What about you?” he asked after a long moment.

Demyx looked confused. “What  _ about _ me?”

“Have you considered the same for yourself?”

His hand shot to a spot against his ribs. “Honestly? I haven’t,” he said. “I don’t… think about it much. They’re easy to cover up. I’m… used to having scars. I don’t know if it would make me feel better. I don’t think I feel the same way about Demyx’s death anymore.”

It was always strange to hear him talk about himself in the third person, but Nobody Demyx and this Demyx were two separate entities; moreso even than Ienzo and Zexion. Zexion had had all of Ienzo’s memories. Nobody Demyx had… nothing. Which explained the discrepancies in his personality. 

“In a way, I’m kind of glad it happened the way it did,” Demyx admitted. “I… I couldn’t imagine life without you. Or anyone else here, for that matter.”

“It does seem like a twist of fate brought us together,” Ienzo said. “At least, on paper.”

“At least I didn’t have to die twice.” He scoffed. After a moment, “Do you think we’ll ever hear anything about Sora?”

“I certainly hope so.” Abandoning that research had been the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean it came easily. “The only person who knows anything is Riku, and I haven’t heard from him in a long while. I truly feel in my heart that this isn’t the last we’ve seen of Sora. Or Kairi, for that matter. If I’ve learned anything, death… doesn’t quite take for those in dire circumstances.”

“It’s in the bonds. Right?”

“Yes.” Ienzo squeezed Demyx’s hand. 

His smile dropped, and his expression became more serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“When you were… asleep, all those weeks, did you ever have the choice to go on?”

Ienzo hesitated.

“I know I did,” Demyx said. “When my memory came back, if not for you, the pain would’ve made me lose the will to live.”

There was a reason he’d never discussed those weeks of dreams. He hadn’t… lied, exactly, but nobody had ever asked if he’d felt or remembered anything from that time, and he had sort of… let that delusion take root. He could either make it a real lie, or admit the truth. Ienzo tried to find the words. “...Yes,” he said slowly. “It was a more or less constant struggle, to hang onto my life.”

Demyx bit his lip.

“I wouldn’t say it was pain, not the way you experienced it. Moreso an atypical form of exhaustion.”

“Aerith said you wore down your will.”

“I did.” Ienzo shut his eyes. “To live was a conscious thought, one that made me ache. More than once it became a burden I could not psychically bear. But I… I heard your voice. And Ansem’s. And Even’s. But especially yours. And I knew it wouldn’t be right to die without doing everything in my power to live first. So I did.”

Demyx’s eyes were watering.

“I do not intend on leaving you again,” Ienzo whispered. “I can promise you that.” He kissed him. He felt Demyx reach up and cup his cheek, always with such gentleness. “After all, there is still so much left in this life for me to experience. There’s so much we’ve missed.”

“I know,” he said. 

“We always seem to end up in these dreadfully existential conversations,” Ienzo said, in an attempt at lightness. 

“I like listening to you talk,” Demyx said. 

“You’re rather insightful as well. I notice you tend to hide it, though.”

He shrugged, though color rushed to his face. 

“You’re always observing. It’s one of the things I love most about you. You always see more than you admit to.”

“It’s gotten me in trouble,” he muttered.

Ienzo touched his face. “Let’s agree not to hide anymore.”

He nodded, blinking back tears. “Okay.”


	6. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Ienzo go on a picnic.
> 
> Immediate follow-up to "Hair."
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

“How’s it cooking?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo looked up at him, trying not to flinch at the burning sensation in his nose. “It’s certainly  _ cooking _ ,” he muttered. When Demyx offered to try healing his scars, he’d thought it involved a spell, or perhaps a pill he could take. The thick, gel-soaked gauze stuck to the marks smelled like menthol and something else similarly strong. Not a terrible smell, but one hard to ignore. 

“No pain or burning or anything?”

“No. Should there be?”

He frowned a little. “Nothing to worry about.” One of Aerith’s favorite phrases, Ienzo noticed, from the time he’d spent speaking with her. Demyx peeled at the gauze, freeing Ienzo’s neck. 

“Any change?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He removed the rest of the gauze and wiped away the sticky residue with a damp cloth. He handed Ienzo a hand mirror.

Ienzo prodded the skin lightly. It felt exactly like it had been in water too long, pruny and slightly sensitive. This was the third time he’d undergone this smelly process.

The color of the wounds had certainly changed, from the bruise-like purple more towards a natural skin tone. The scar had foreshortened too, and was less noticeable to the touch. But it was still there, like a faint silvery chain just below his Adam's apple. Still visible, especially to prying eyes. He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said instantly. “This is the strongest stuff we could make. If this didn’t make it go away--”

“Then nothing will,” Ienzo finished. “Thank you for trying.”

“It’s a whole lot better,” he said, in an attempt to be comforting. “You can’t even tell from a distance.”

He set the mirror down and did the buttons of his shirt back up to the top. “I appreciate what you’ve done. Really.” The minty smell still caught in his nose. “I knew this only had a slight chance of working.”

“I know.” He sounded disappointed with himself. “It’s just that this healing thing doesn’t come nearly as easily to me as music does. I wish I were as good as Aerith. Maybe I could fix you then.”

Ienzo caught his hand. “There is no need to be hard on yourself.”

“Force of habit,” he said evasively, not quite making eye contact. “We could keep trying. Maybe I could tweak the formula--”

“Whatever you think is best,” Ienzo said, trying to assuage his esteem. “I trust you completely.” 

He nodded, and then rubbed at the back of his neck. An anxious gesture. 

“Perhaps we could spend some time together this afternoon,” Ienzo said. “Away from work. I think we’re both a touch stressed.”

“Yeah, I think I might need that.” He sighed. “We could get lunch, or… what about a picnic? Yuffie told me about some cool places on the outskirts of town.”

“I think that would be very nice.” 

“Cool.” He smiled, but it had just a hint of the typical exuberance.

“Excellent. I’ll pack a light lunch.”

“I’ll see if I can find some extra blankets. Text me when you’re ready.” Demyx pecked Ienzo’s cheek and disappeared through the open door.

Ienzo still garnered a great deal of pleasure from cooking. Simple foods were not so challenging, but they were a great comfort. He brought some sandwiches (cutting the crusts off Demyx’s, the way he knew he liked), a thermos of warm soup. A jar of pickles he’d made that were ready to be eaten. Simplicity was not always bad.

He packed it all in a bag and was about to head downstairs when his gummiphone pinged.  _ Bad news. Look outside, _ Demyx wrote.

Ienzo peered out the window. Par for the course of being in the castle all the time meant he was not always aware of the outside world. Rain fell in a thick, white, unbroken sheet. 

He exhaled. Their personal time as a couple was something he valued very highly, and even in the past few minutes he’d gotten his hopes up.  _ I still have lunch. I suppose we can eat in the kitchen. _ He saw the floating dots as Demyx attempted a reply.

_ I have an idea. Meet me in the study room. _

He did so. Despite claiming to not have much experience in the department, Demyx was better at spontaneity. 

He could hear soft, half-familiar strains of music as he got closer. Not quite jazzy, not quite folksy, not quite upbeat. Demyx’s tastes were immeasurably varied. He realized it was a recording, from the slight warp in the melody; he must have dug up a record in the library. The sound threatened to blend into ambiance. 

Ienzo opened the door. He hadn’t really been here in quite some time; neither of them had. Demyx had dragged in a record player and laid a blanket on the floor. The light, despite the rain, was bright. “Ta-da,” Demyx said, almost shyly. 

“Cute,” Ienzo said. He sat down gingerly on the flannel blanket and unpacked the food. 

“I thought about putting it in the sitting room, but we’re really the only ones who use this space.”

“I suppose the others forget this room is here most of the time. A lot of the castle is unused.”

They ate in near silence for a few minutes. 

“Wherever did you find something like this?” Ienzo asked, gesturing to the record.

“Oh, there’s actually a lot in the library. I’ve been trying to work my way through the collection. I’m surprised there’s so much vinyl. I figured Ansem would find that obsolete.” 

“Perhaps so, but he loves to collect. To archive, I guess one should say. As did his predecessors.”

“I just think it’s cool. It kind of lets me into the heads of the people who made all this stuff. You know? And now I’m here, listening to it, and I’m sort of from the future  _ and _ the past, which is just wild.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said quietly. 

“There’s so much variety in genre, too. More than I thought there would be here. Some worlds there’s  _ just _ the folk music, or whatever creative wave is happening at the time. You guys have a long history. Longer than most. Artistically, at least.”

“That so?” 

He nodded eagerly. “I haven’t studied it too hard, but there’s something like eight different artistic movements at least, and that’s just in what’s recorded. There’s probably more in pre-and post-history. I think it’s really inspiring.”

“Maybe your collections will be part of it.”

Instead of encouraging him, though, this remark seemed to depress Demyx somewhat; he slouched a little. “Maybe.”

Ienzo frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Demyx exhaled and set his sandwich aside, half-eaten. “I don’t know. I feel like… almost like I’m being split. Like I have to choose one path to stay on. Healing  _ or _ music. They both… they both consume me. But I know I’m good at music. The thing is, as soon as you introduce that human element,  _ and _ heighten the stakes because, by the way, one wrong spell can  _ kill _ someone, I just… I just freeze up. I do want to help people. But I… I can’t choose one part of myself without at the same time denying the other.”

Ienzo frowned. “I don’t think that’s very well reasoned.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow.

“There have been plenty of creatives, throughout history, who have in their daily lives had another profession. Under capitalistic societies, especially. I see no reason why you cannot pursue both passions. You merely need to learn balance.”

Demyx bit his lip. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course.” He took his hand. “I know you often use music as a way to further your studies. Maybe it can work the other way, too. You can incorporate your music into your spells. It’s only been a few months, Demyx. It will only take time. I have the utmost faith in you.”

He blushed. “Really?”

“Yes. You are so much more than you think.”

“Thank you.” The record flipped. The next track was slower, a bit more understated. Demyx offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

Ienzo hesitated. But really, there was no one around to see. “Be patient.”

They stepped off of the blanket. Demyx took his hand, and rested the other at his waist. “Here,” he said. He put Ienzo’s other hand at his shoulder. “You really never did this?”

“Truly. I do… I do not really know how.”

“Just feel the beat. In your body. Let it move you.”

Ienzo tried to listen to him, but he couldn’t shake the self-consciousness. They swayed a little, back and forth, in time. He trusted Demyx’s timekeeping better than his own. He had never tried to  _ feel _ music before. 

“Twirl,” Demyx said. He took Ienzo’s hand and spun him gently, then did the same for himself. “See? You’ve got it.” They were a little closer now, their bodies touching, and Ienzo swore that the beat of the music was mirroring the beat of his heart. “One of these days I’ll teach you to waltz.”

“I should learn to walk before I learn to run.”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” His hand, against the small of Ienzo’s back, was warm through his clothing. “Do you remember, the night we first kissed, when I tried to get you to dance with me? You were so embarrassed.”

“To be fair, times were different, then. And we were in a crowd.”

“Yeah. But you’re more willing to try things now. To put yourself out of your comfort zone.”

“That’s a hard-won skill.” He leaned against Demyx’s shoulder, letting him move them gently to the beat. “I’m so very glad you did, though.”

“What, kiss you?”

“Yes. I never would’ve thought to initiate it on my own. I could barely even detect interest.”

“To be fair, I’m not much better at it.”

“Yes, but you are neurotypical. It’s more comfortable for you to think that way.”

“...You’re getting pretty flirty yourself.”

“Because I feel comfortable with you.”

Demyx kissed him. There was something warm and insistent in it, and Ienzo could not help but respond eagerly. This moment felt completely natural. Completely right. Demyx broke the kiss and trailed down his throat. 

“I suppose it’s for the best we’re alone,” Ienzo said thickly. 

He laughed softly. “You’ve gotten a lot better at it since that night.”

“Kissing?” He laughed, too. “I am a quick study.”

“You freaked out first.”

“It was my only experience with such things. I think I do deserve some slack.” Ienzo kissed him, drinking in the feel of it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me too.”

They were lost in each other for some time. Ienzo thought that at some point this chemistry would dull and fade--he’d read enough stories where that happened--but it only seemed to grow the more they experienced together. It was only when the record ended that he broke off the kiss, because he needed to catch his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” Demyx asked.

“I do need to breathe every once in a while.”

“But I wasn’t done with you.”

He felt himself being pulled still closer. Little ripples of endorphins broke over him. He wanted it--the ephemeral, unknown “it”. He wasn’t quite sure which one of them initiated it, but they eased down onto the blanket. He could feel the hard wood on his back, even through the cushion. 

Demyx broke off the kiss, breathing hard.

"I thought you weren't done with me," Ienzo teased. 

He snorted. It really was funny, in an awkward sort of way. "...I'm guessing you didn't plan too far ahead?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You didn't bring any--"

"You've caught me by surprise."

"Oh." He laughed a little more. 

"We could always head back."

"No. It's okay."

Ienzo laced his fingers against Demyx's neck. "We can make do. I should hate to waste a perfectly good afternoon." He kissed Demyx's jaw and heard him giggling. "Something funny?"

“I can’t believe my luck sometimes.”

It was the irony more than anything that made Ienzo laugh too. “What we’ve gone through to end up here.”

“Someday we’ll have enough good memories to outweigh the bad ones.”

“I hope so.”

They kissed each other. It was the sort of gesture that took its time. There was no need to rush to the next step in this hard-won bubble of privacy. It felt good to want, not quite so heavy. Perhaps someday soon he would come to terms with the fact that this was all normal. That his body was worth having. Maybe these scars didn’t matter in the larger context of his life--

He felt Demyx’s lips against the healing skin and gasped, though from pleasure or something akin to shock he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if this had never happened before. 

Demyx looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“I think so…” He touched his throat. “It’s all a tad… sensitive.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t touch it again.”

“It’s… not that.” Truthfully they hadn’t had time to be intimate in longer than he would have liked. "I feel like I… my body… it's mine. You understand?" He cursed his ineloquence, his breathlessness.

"I… I do, yeah." He swallowed. 

"I feel expansive. I feel strange."

Demyx pressed his forehead against Ienzo's. A playful smile crossed his lips. "Maybe someday I'll get there too."

"I know you will." 

"Be patient with me." He seemed embarrassed to say it.

It was an odd admission. As if Ienzo would ever purposefully push his boundaries. "Of course."

"I want to be whole enough for you--" 

Ienzo tangled his hands in Demyx's newly-long hair, hoping the touch conveyed how he felt. "You are always exactly enough for me." He brought his mouth up against Demyx's, tasting salt. Ienzo felt his lips part and brought him still closer. Demyx's hands were warm where they touched his back. He could hear their heightened breathing, but did not feel the familiar wave of self-consciousness. How much of this was revelation, and how much was vulnerability borne of privacy? 

His hips, even with a blanket, ached against the hard floor. He shifted his weight. Demyx's hand slid down his hip and thigh. Ienzo pressed harder against him. The sensation, muffled by clothing, was oddly exciting. 

"Maybe I could…" Demyx bit his lip.

"What?"

His skin was flushed all the way down to his collarbones. "Would you… would you want me to go down on you?" All at once, in a rush. 

Ienzo honestly did not know how to respond.

He dropped his eyes, working a handful of blanket in one fist. "You know that means that I'd--"

"I know what it means." He turned the thought over in his mind. He'd never thought of it in context with himself. The more he considered, the more curiosity bloomed. 

"If you're not comfortable--"

"I'm… intrigued." His composure was slipping. "I'm just not sure if--"

"You don't have to do it back. If you don't want to."

"I'm just not sure how it's done."

His lip twitched nervously. "You and me both."

Ienzo snorted.

"What?"

"I'm so used to you knowing more than me in that regard. It might be nice… to experience something for the first time together."

Demyx smiled shyly. Ienzo kissed him. His heart was beating faster now, more nervously. Demyx slipped off Ienzo's shirt and then his own. He balled them up into a makeshift pillow. "That's gotta be uncomfortable." 

Admittedly it did improve things greatly. He eased off his slacks. His skin burned with a sort of restless energy. They held eye contact for a touch too long. Ienzo squeezed his hand. 

It was not an instant sort of thing. Demyx kissed him, slowly, moving down along his jaw and throat and chest. The anticipation made him shake. Ienzo tried to touch whatever skin he could, but as Demyx ever so  _ slowly _ moved along him he could only drink it in, on the verge of overstimulation. Rather than discomfort, though, it was quite pleasant.

He felt himself being stroked, a shallow gasp catching in his throat. He held fast to Demyx's shoulder. A warmth and wetness replaced the fingers, tentative and a bit awkward, but to say it wasn't in itself incredible was untrue. He could hear his own ragged breathing. His other hand was tangled in Demyx's hair, farther down than he was used to finding it. 

Demyx was experimenting with him, testing the waters, though he could not form a cohesive sentence to tell him anything. He worked more closely to the tip, ever so gently and clumsily, pausing every now and again to adjust or breathe. If the soft noises he made were any indication, he was enjoying this too.

This pleasure was intense in a different way than he was used to, brushing the right place at the right time, and he just knew he'd have next to no warning. It was a tenuous point of no return. "Stop," he stammered. "I'm going to--" He had just enough wherewithal to find a napkin before he tipped over the edge. The strength of it made him dizzy and shaky, a familiar-but-new sensation. When he fully opened his eyes again, he saw at first the soiled cloth. 

Demyx's eyes were wide, curious. He wiped at his mouth with a shaky hand. "I guess I did okay enough," he said in a low voice. 

Ienzo was surprised he could even speak. "Yes… it was… I felt so…" His heart hammered unevenly. He pulled Demyx closer, back to his level, and began to stroke him, kissing skin and scars. Soon he'd repay the favor, but for now this was all he could handle after that. Demyx moaned against his shoulder and shook a little as he came. In a sort of overwhelmed haze they held each other.

“Are you okay?” Ienzo asked, when he regained some degree of coherence. 

“I think so.” He rested against Ienzo’s chest, utterly lax. “Your heart’s still racing.”

“It was an… altogether different feeling. Though I can’t see what you would get out of it.”

Demyx propped his chin up slightly. “I like seeing you enjoy yourself. And I could tell you were. In a way, it does feel sexy. Not as weird as you might think.”

“I understand that much. Though it is… strange. Sexuality in general.”

“Something worth exploring, though.”

“Yes. I’m glad it is with you.”

“You’re such a cheeseball.”

“Forgive me. At the moment I find it hard to be eloquent.”

A few moments passed. They listened to the rain. 

“You fantasized about being human, right? When you were a Nobody?” Ienzo asked.

“Yeah. I think we all did.”

“I didn’t.”

Demyx looked up, seeking Ienzo’s gaze, but Ienzo kept his eyes on the window. “Why do you ask?”

“Did you ever see anything like this for yourself?”

“Getting laid? Or falling in love?”

“Either. Both.”

He propped himself up on an elbow. “Sex as a Nobody is _really_ weird. You think this is bizarre? That’s on another level.”

“I thought you didn’t--”

“I  _ didn’t _ , but I still masturbated every once in a while.” He shrugged. “It was all… really empty. Really scientific. Just the sense of release, without all the  _ other _ stuff. So I figured being with an actual person would be just as uncomfortable. As for love… I mean, I honestly didn’t think I would survive.”

“Did you want it?”

“I think. As much as a Nobody  _ could _ want something that emotional. Maybe on a subconscious level I did think it would help me feel real.”

“You were still technically a Nobody when you fell in love with me.”

“But I’d made the choice to be human. That makes the difference.”

“Yes. I suppose it was.”

Demyx kissed his shoulder. “You really never thought about the future?”

“Beyond the Organization? Not as much as you’d think. I guess I assumed it would exist in perpetuity--whether or not we finished Kingdom Hearts.”

“...That’s pretty dismal.”

“I like to think that eventually I would have found the strength and courage to question what Xemnas served us. I was only nineteen when Zexion died, after all. But I can’t say. And to pretend that I know is delusional and disingenuous.”

“...Most people don’t psychoanalyze pillow talk.”

Ienzo smiled. “I think to some degree you enjoy it. A normal person would bore you.”

“Well. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.” 


	7. Burnout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tough patient causes Demyx to burn out, which raises some questions as to why he's turned to healing in the first place. 
> 
> Timeline: at least six months after chapter 19.

Kaila’s baby was healthy.

It had been a big deal when she was born--it was the first live birth Radiant Garden had seen since the Fall. The world was stable enough that people had the confidence to begin families. Aerith had been abuzz about the pregnancy since the young woman came to them. Demyx had been there for the birth, the vaccinations. Seeing the little girl, now three months old, did give him hope. He wasn’t sure if he and Ienzo would ever have a family in the traditional sense--maybe they’d get a cat first--but he was happy that other people were ready for that step. A new generation, divorced from fear, living in safety. It was almost too good to be true.

Kaila’s baby was healthy. Kaila wasn’t doing so hot. The birth had fractured some of the vertebrae in her spine, pinching her nerves and making it hard to walk. It was the sort of thing that required repeat treatment to regenerate and strengthen the nerves, which was something he was still grasping. Aerith had left the new mother in his “very competent” hands to go run soup over to old Mrs. Fletcher.

Demyx wasn’t doing so hot either.

He’d felt sick all day, though vaguely so--a  _ little _ nauseous, a  _ little _ headachey, and so on. Self-diagnosis was a slippery slope, and the symptoms were way too common to mean anything. “How do you feel now?” Demyx asked her. 

“My toe’s still tingly, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.” The woman flexed her foot. 

It didn’t help that this was a high cost spell. The more involved things were, the more energy it cost. If he did it poorly, he’d have spent that magic for nothing, and left the patient still sick or in pain. Healing cuts? Cost nothing. Tedious nerve reconstruction, from the base of the spine all the way down the legs? Lots of stress, and he was feeling it; sweat was beading under his arms. “Let me see if I can fix that.”

He felt at Kaila’s aura. Her energy was strong, and tired from spending sleepless nights with the newborn, though he could sense her happiness. He found her spine, down to the place where the break had occurred. Directing the energy and urging it to heal felt like pushing through half-dry concrete. Down the thighs, the knees. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and his concentration broke. He fought the urge to swear. Start again. Aura, spine, hips, thighs, knees--

“I think it’s working. Is it supposed to feel warm?”

Did she  _ have _ to say something? He tried to smile. “Yeah, that’s the spell taking effect.” He was feeling woozier still. 

“You okay?” She frowned.

It wasn’t her fault, Demyx reminded himself. She didn’t know how tiring this was. One more time. Aura, spine, hips--

He could feel the nerve endings, each so distinct and fine, like a filament. He pushed a little harder, through a steady-growing pain in his chest, to the very edge of her foot. But getting there was only half the battle--the energy had to be held so it could do its work. Kaila remained silent, still. The back of Demyx’s mouth tasted raw. This wasn’t good, but there was no point dropping everything now when he was so close to helping this person.

The sense of heaviness eased from her aura. She wiggled her foot. “It’s gone! You did it.”

Demyx had to actively focus to stay pleasantly smiling, to not hurl all over the floor. “Come on over if anything changes,” he said.

“Thank goodness. You have no idea how frustrating it’s been. Like feeling white noise all the time.”

“I’m sure.”

She got off of the treatment table. “Everyone thinks you’re doing great, you know. I’m so happy Aerith has a partner now.”

The dizziness was worsening. As casually as possible, he leaned against the now vacant table, fighting the urge to collapse onto it. 

Kaila reached into her pocket. “This is for you.” She tried to press the money into his hand.

“You don’t have to--”

“Take it. Please. You must at least need to buy supplies. I wouldn’t give it if we didn’t have it.”

“Thank you.” He set the money aside and tried to breathe.

“No, thank you. And if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you could use a little bit of a break.” She frowned.

“I’ll be fine. It’s an intense spell, is all.”

“Well I surely appreciate it. You have a good day now.”

Demyx watched her leave. He sat on the table and rested his head in his hands. His vision was swimming. Why did he feel so shitty? This wasn’t the normal low-magic exhaustion. The wooziness washed over him in little waves. Where was Aerith? How long did it take to drop off some soup? She’d have an answer. She always had an answer.

He felt so… incompetent. Would he even be half as good as her? He could barely handle the exhaustion--he’d almost snapped at Kaila. He was supposed to be the one in control. Aerith was finally starting to trust him to work unsupervised. And this was how he was handling it?

There had to be something he could take to feel better. What were his symptoms again? Nausea, dizziness, exhaustion, headache, chest pain? Or was it indigestion? Sometimes it was a side-effect of magic use. What would help all that, or some of it? Ginger, for the nausea, willow bark for the pain, maybe a mild anti-inflammatory? Was this also dehydration?

Demyx stood, to cross over to the medicine cabinet, but his knees gave out and his vision abruptly went dark.

The next thing he was aware of was the cool floor against his cheek, and the smell of something bitter. “There you are. Hi.”

If anything, he felt worse than before, like he was full of sludge. 

Aerith crouched next to him, a bottle of smelling salts in one hand. “Come on. Up we go.” Gentle. Soothing. Her patient voice.

Moving was not a great idea. She eased him up on the table and handed him an empty mixing bowl just in time for him to be sick into it.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. That was a lapse in judgement on my part. I’m sorry.” She took the sick away from him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Well--Kaila left--”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You fixed Kaila?”

Why was she saying that as though it were a bad thing? “Yes?”

Aerith exhaled. “There’s a reason I didn’t heal her all at once. That’d be a challenge even for  _ my _ stamina. I thought you were getting low, but you must be completely empty.”

“...Empty?”

“I thought you’d been pushing yourself too hard, but you never complained, so--” She crossed over to the cabinet and started grabbing a couple of things. “You burnt yourself out, that’s all. Use too much magic and you actually end up eating into your own metabolism. Kind of like a super mild version of what happened to Ienzo.”

“How do we fix it?” Demyx was feeling nauseous again.

“Can’t so much as fix it as treat the symptoms.” She frowned. “I should’ve kept a better eye on you. You’re still finding the balance. I’m sorry, but these next few days are going to  _ really _ suck. Why don’t you lay down? I’ll get you some tea.”

He was too weak to do anything but listen. He felt her toss a blanket over him, sweet clean wool. He really was so tired. Lying here felt so odd, and off. 

“Sleep for a little while,” she said.

He slept so heavily and instantaneously that he wondered if she might have knocked him out herself, but this wasn’t Aerith’s usual MO. Demyx woke in his bed, of all places, feeling more or less like animated garbage. Opening his eyes was almost too much; the light was bright and piercing. 

“Well good morning sunshine,” Ienzo said coolly. He sat in the chair at the bedside, a book in his lap and several on the dresser. 

“...Oh, you’re mad,” he said. His voice was hoarse and very soft. 

“Moreso frustrated. And that frustration is born from worry.” He reached over and took Demyx’s hand. “I think it’s a touch hypocritical that you criticize me for overwork, and yet you collapse on the job.”

“To be fair, it wasn’t on the job. The job had already walked out the door.”

Ienzo sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Like the dead. How long have I been out?”

“The better part of two days.”

Demyx sat up slowly. Nothing seemed to have straight lines. Ienzo handed him a glass of water and a pill he knew Aerith had made. 

“She said, and I quote, “prepare for the worst hangover of your life.” Unfortunately the only cure for it is rest.” He shook his head. “I may not be a healer, but at least I have basic nursing skills.”

Despite a sour stomach, the water went down easily. Demyx tasted something minty in the pill. “A hangover with none of the fun.”

“...Quite.”

“Sorry. I’m guessing this hasn’t been a cakewalk.”

“You vomited several times in your sleep. Hence my vigil.”

Demyx flinched. “Yikes. And you stayed?”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “I have a surprising tolerance for the gross. Especially when it comes to you.”

“Gee, thanks.” He leaned back a little against the pile of pillows. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“Some. Don’t turn this back on me.”

Demyx wrinkled his nose. 

Ienzo sighed. He took Demyx’s hand, tracing its shape. “I see no reason to chastise you when you know what went wrong,” he said. “But I wonder... why did you do it?”

The medicine was easing the nausea and dizziness, but at the same time made him feel somewhat loopy. “These people, they need… help.”

“They’ve gotten by without you. They can do it again. At least for a few days.”

Demyx shook his head. “She’s finally started to trust me.”

“Your competence has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve started to put them before yourself. I’m proud that your capacity for empathy has grown so, but at the same time, Demyx, is that what this is really about?” He leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze.

Maybe it was because he felt so shitty. His eyes were watering.

“I’m trying to understand it,” Ienzo said. “You stopped therapy so suddenly after what happened in the basement, but I’m not sure that means you’ve healed.”

If he weren’t so weak he would have pulled away. 

“I think you’ve thrown yourself into this so headlong to avoid having to deal with your own pain. It might be guilt, too. You help them because you couldn’t help the others.”

“Is this what you’ve thought about the past two days?”

“Well--yes.” Ienzo took off his reading glasses. “But you and I are, at our core, more similar than we thought. We’ll do anything to salve the pain. You know. You don’t  _ have _ to put up a front of recovery.”

“But you’re okay.” His voice broke. “I just want to be--”

Ienzo pressed his forehead against Demyx’s. “You’re healing. And that’s enough. It’s not quick. It’s not perfect. And it’s certainly not going to be the same as me. As I,” he corrected. “You’ve changed my grammar, you know that?”

He smiled despite the onslaught of tears. Ienzo pulled him close. He felt so horrible that for a few minutes he let himself cry and be babied. He was reminded of the early days of their relationship, when he was so starved of affection and touch that it was cathartic. This was, in a way, its own relief; the pressure he’d been putting himself under was completely arbitrary. He tried to tell himself that, at least. 

It wasn’t guilt so much as… well… what he was worth. He  _ understood _ he’d been manipulated and taken advantage of and he  _ understood _ that the awful things he’d done were his responsibility. But for so long Demyx had been a pawn in a bigger game where the gamemaster was always shifting. He was no longer unmoored, but he wasn’t stable, either. Healing people was something to hold onto, a constant, a goal to work towards. Music wasn't so forgiving. Music made him think inwardly, which was now ceaselessly complicated. 

He'd done the only thing he knew how, after ages of apathy and laziness; he'd made himself useful. He told Ienzo as much. “If I helped with Xehanort, and I help these people, that has to make this worth it, right? That has to make  _ me _ worth it?”

Ienzo looked almost startled. “You needn’t destroy yourself to justify your own existence. Especially since you understand morality. You… you told me as much.”

“I thought it would be enough.”

“What?”

“I just…” He grit his teeth, swallowing a sob. “I’m supposed to be happy. I’m human, I have you, I have Arpeggio, I have these bonds with people and yet I… I feel like an impostor.”

“I do, too,” Ienzo said softly.

“And as much as I tell myself that it’s  _ okay _ to feel this way, or whatever, I don’t know how people don’t see it’s all…”

“A ruse?”

“It feels that way. Like someone’s going to take it all. Like I’m going to wake up and it’s all gone. So I guess that’s why.”

He blinked. “Why what?”

“Healing people. Pushing so hard. Trying to leave a mark of kindness so this pain isn’t for nothing.”

“But you have to express such emotion healthily. Or else this happens.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Ienzo’s expression went, abruptly, blank, and while he didn’t physically pull away from Demyx, he could feel the walls go up.

Demyx exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, that was mean--”

The tension eased slightly. “No. You’re right. I… I don’t know how.”

“I don’t either.”

“All this reading, all this study of psychology. I know what  _ is _ considered healthy. But I don’t know how to do it myself.”

“I guess…” Demyx settled back against the pillows. “I guess, it’s like, what feels the most right. Not  _ good _ . But right. Like, you know, puking feels right, but not good.”

“You’re still nauseous?”

“Very.”

Ienzo sighed. He smiled, but it was small, and sad. “If only there were some way to purge emotionally.”

“Well. Talking, mostly.” Demyx doubted there was anything left in his stomach to empty, but he swallowed down the excess spit in his mouth.

“Yes. You are right. Maybe we should both go back to… talking through things.”

“I think we need to.”

Ienzo leaned against the mattress. “Since what happened in the basement I do feel quite a lot better, but things still linger. I think this will take some time.”

“Yeah. It will.”

“Can I lie down with you? Or do you feel too ill?”

“I’m not going to puke on you, if that’s what you’re asking.” He lifted the covers and Ienzo crawled under. The touch soothed him and took his mind off of his various miseries. “It’s hard to be patient. After waiting so long.”

“For humanity?”

“Stability. What have you.”

“I agree.” Ienzo looped his arms loosely around Demyx’s waist. “At least we’re not alone in this.”

He breathed in Ienzo’s clean, slightly sweet smell. “Ienzo?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to get a cat?”


	8. Precarious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx finds Ansem wandering deliriously in the rain, and this dredges up painful memories for all involved.
> 
> This chapter contains discussion of depression and suicidal ideation. Please use your discretion, and take care of yourselves.

It was a stormy, blustery kind of day. Wind wailed against the stone of town, eerie and ghostlike. 

Demyx and Aerith hadn’t had a whole lot of work that day; he noticed, for whatever reason, these things seemed to come and go in waves, regardless of whether or not it was sickness. Instead they were making a backlog of medicine, jockeying for the limited counter space in Aerith’s kitchen.

There had been a point when this made him nervous, when memorizing lists of ingredients and their corresponding spells gave him intense anxiety. Even just a few months later, it seemed second nature.

Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all.

“...You seem spacey,” Aerith said.

“What? Oh, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just thinking that it’s gotten easier. That’s all.”

She smiled. “I knew it would. I told you. It just takes practice. I think you’re more of a manual learner, anyway.”

“That what Even says.” Demyx put the capsules in their bottles and labeled them. 

“You’ve been doing well with the injuries, too. How many broken bones is it?”

“Too many to count.”

“Exactly. It’s baby steps.”

He nodded, then said, “You don’t have to take care of my ego.”

She snorted. “Trust me. I wouldn’t.”

The wind kicked up even more firmly against the kitchen windows. Thunder echoed against the stone.

Aerith frowned. “You should go home, unless you want to wait out the storm here.”

“Is this sort of weather normal?”

“For late summer, yes. The beginning and end of the drought’s always like this.”

He shook his head. “Alright. Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m visiting Theo and Anya in the morning, just to make sure Anya’s cancer has stayed gone. You should be there to observe.”

It was the first time she’d mentioned bringing him along to something so serious. “Oh… Sure. When?”

“I’ll text you. Now get going before it rains.”

Demyx set off. The sky was dark, almost black, and town had gone still. The normally busy marketplace was all but empty, stalls shuttered or battened down with tarps. He picked up his pace. 

He liked rain. The smell of it, the feel of it against his skin. It could be calming, could quiet down the human noise of the world, leaving behind the rest. This was not one of those storms. This was the kind that could blow out windows. Demyx pushed against the wind and felt the thin needles of water as the rain began to break.

The angry music of it quickly soaked him though. He made it up to the postern at last, preparing himself mentally for Dilan’s inevitable lecture about him getting mud everywhere, when he saw something.

Ansem stood, in the rain and the wind, by the railing, his red scarf flicking agitatedly. 

Demyx approached him. “Ansem?”

He didn’t turn; his orange eyes stared over at the town, his face grim, stony. 

“We should go in case there’s lightning,” Demyx said. “This is all metal. It’ll go up.”

He turned slightly. While he looked at Demyx, his eyes were elsewhere, slightly unfocused. “I haven’t seen such a storm in some time.”

“Yeah, it’s bad. Which is why we should go.” The stare was unnerving him, sending little flickers of anxiety through him. “Why are you out here?”

“There wasn’t weather there. It was all black nothingness, stillness, hell.”

Demyx blinked. “In the Realm of Darkness?” A peal of thunder startled him. “Ansem, I’d love to talk this through with you inside. We can’t stay out here.”

“Nothing is sustainable.”

“Look, that’s very philosophical, but I--” Demyx exhaled sharply, his heart in his throat. “Ansem, you didn’t come out here to--?”

He blinked, slowly. “No. I--no, that was not my intention. I suppose I wanted to feel--” Ansem didn’t finish the sentence. “I suspect I am not well.”

“Yeah? I can help you.” Between his heartbeat clanging in his ears and the wind, it was almost impossible to hear. He offered his hand to Ansem. “We can talk about this.”

“What is there to say?”

“You’ve gotta have something. You’re a smart guy. You’ve got a doctorate in something or another. Help me out.”

Ansem’s grip on the railing tightened. He might as well have been choking him. “I failed. I left them to clean up my mess. When he… when he apologized to me, only then did I realize what they did to that poor boy. I should have known they were using him as a puppet. I should never have--”

“Ansem, doing this isn’t going to help.”

“I’m not sure what will.”

“Please--”

“I have treated everyone in my life so poorly, without remorse. I have utterly neglected the code I swore to uphold. Why is it I deserve this chance when so many have perished?”

This was all sounding too familiar. Demyx swallowed the spit welling in his mouth, tasting rain. “I felt the same way too,” he admitted. “In the war, there were so many of us in the unions. And do you know how many Dandelions there were? Three hundred. Three hundred people got to live while the rest suffered and died. And I lived again and again. You can’t… you can’t question why. Maybe consider that you’re meant to be here, for whatever reason. If you give up now, that’s kind of like spitting on their graves, right?”

Ansem turned slightly. 

“You and me can do the right thing. We can help people. That’s why we’re here. You… you believe in fate, right? You can’t see that as not mattering.” He offered his hand again. “Let’s go.”

After a long, agonizing moment, he reached out and took it. Ansem’s skin was warm, uncomfortably so. Demyx towed him steadily to the door, trying to maintain eye contact. As soon as they had crossed the threshold he breathed a sigh of relief. Ansem watched the water dripping from his scarf and coat like he wasn’t sure what it was. Demyx kept hold of his hand and scanned his vitals quickly.

Ansem was a mess, physically speaking; feverish, low blood pressure, heart beating unsteadily. He’d caught a bug, the bug made him delirious, and the delirium made him vulnerable to the pain he could usually keep controlled. It was sad, but made a lot of sense. 

“Come on,” Demyx said softly. “We should get changed. You’re probably tired.”

“Things are… very unclear…” He shook his head.

“You’re just sick. I’ll help you.”

“You’re too kind. I saw it in you when we met.”

Likely untrue. “Come on. We’re almost there.” 

Demyx was able to get Ansem to go put on dry clothes, and to get in bed. He fell fitfully asleep almost immediately. Anxiety and his damp clothes made Demyx shiver. He decided to chance going to change and get some medicine. 

Dilan met him coming down the hallway and was predictably huffy. “You  _ do _ know Aeleus and I just washed the floors, right? I do not appreciate you tracking mud and what have you--”

Demyx cut him off. “Ansem’s sick. I need to go get medicine. Can you keep him company for a few minutes?”

Dilan blinked. “Yes--quite--whatever’s the matter?”

“It feels like just a fever, but I--I’ll tell you in a bit.”

“...Certainly.”

He dried himself off quickly and felt a deep chill that only had partly to do with the rain. Demyx texted Ienzo and gathered some of the pills Aerith had gave him, including some antibiotics. Panic was making everything a little shimmery, as was the impact of what had just happened. He could freak out about this later. 

Ansem was still asleep, flushed and washed out against the sheets. Demyx put up the kettle in the kitchen and shooed Dilan out of the seat he’d pulled up to the bedside. He felt again at Ansem, doing a little more of a thorough scan this time. It was a high fever, and seemed like one that had been unattended; he couldn’t be sure of the cause, as it didn’t feel bacterial. A virus. It didn’t seem to be causing any dangerous damage.

But the thing was, in order to do this spell Demyx had to feel at his energy, his aura, and you could feel a  _ lot _ about a person from their aura. He felt Ansem’s guilt and pain pour into him, staggering regret. He let go of it and swallowed nausea. The kettle was whistling loudly. “Get that for me,” Demyx said to Dilan.

“Absolutely,” he said, with only a trace of bitterness, and came back with a cup of boiling water. 

Demyx dropped one of the pills into it and watched it dissolve, turning a brownish pink. 

“What’s that?” Dilan asked.

“Fever reducer.”

“I see.”

Demyx waited for the tea to cool. The proper thing to do would be to continue tracking his vitals, and try to destroy the virus from within, but the pain was just too much. No wonder, at first chance, it had come poking out of his psyche. 

“What on earth happened?” Dilan asked.

“He must’ve been sick and decided to go out in the rain.”

“Your expression belies more than that.”

Demyx hesitated. Dilan had once been one of Ansem’s closest companions; didn’t that mean anything? Before he could even try to explain, Ienzo came through the doors, his face drawn.

“Is he alright?” he asked in a strained voice.

“The actual sickness itself doesn’t feel too serious.”

Ienzo frowned. “Then whatever is the matter?” 

He took a deep breath. “Let’s go over into the other room. You, too,” he added towards Dilan.

The private study was a mess. Books and papers flooded the desk, as well as crusty glasses. It didn’t bode well for what Demyx had to say. Rain blew in from the partially open window; Dilan quickly sealed them.

Demyx took Ienzo’s hands. 

“So it’s a mysterious fainting illness?” Dilan asked dryly. He leaned against the windowsill.

“Not quite. It’s a little baby virus. Once he gets some rest and fluids it’ll take care of itself. That’s not why I’m worried.” Demyx sighed. “I was coming up from town and I found him wandering deliriously by the postern. I think… and I’m not sure how delusional he really was, but I think he was trying to kill himself.”

Ienzo touched his throat. He breathed heavily. 

“You’re sure you weren’t merely seeing things in the rain?” Dilan asked.

“I spoke to him. He asked why he deserved to live when everyone else had died. Stuff like that. I know he was sick, and that kind of twists things, but I…”

“I… I know he’s struggled, but I… I didn’t think he was…” Ienzo sat in the rocking chair.

“What can we do?” Dilan asked.

“I mean, there are medicines and spells that can help balance brain chemistry, but I mean, we really just have to  _ talk _ it out. Get him to talk about it.” He took a few shaky breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad we know,” Dilan said.

“I can probably do the most,” Ienzo said, looking at the floor instead of either of them. “I’ll… I’ll be here when he wakes.” His eyes were wide, and frightened. Demyx pulled him into an embrace, not particularly caring that Dilan was in the room. Demyx could feel Ienzo trembling. No doubt this was bringing up any number of unpleasant memories. He kissed him on the forehead. 

“I’ll be right back,” Demyx said. “Keep an eye on him,” he mouthed to Dilan, who nodded in response.

He didn’t want to leave Ienzo, but he also couldn’t be sure how deeply Ansem was sleeping, or how delirious he really was. The tea was now cool enough to be drunk; he shook Ansem gently.

“Demyx?” He seemed groggy, disoriented.

“Here. Drink this. It’s for the fever.”At least, Demyx noted, he had enough wherewithal to do that on his own. “You’ll be okay. Just a virus.” He fought hard to keep his voice neutral, soft-spoken. “The rain doesn’t help.”

“The rain?” His expression sharpened. “I’m a--I’m a fool.”

Idiot. He shouldn’t have said that. “Try to get some rest. We can talk about this when you’re stronger.” Demyx took the empty cup from him. 

“I do feel quite ill…”

“So sleep, okay?”

Wearily, Ansem turned over and went back to sleep.

They waited for a while. Ansem’s fever slowly dropped, but didn’t quite break. Ienzo sat on his other side, his expression grave, drawn. The rain continued to pour down. The room seemed dark, misty. Demyx didn’t know what to do with himself. He checked Ansem’s vitals, dabbed the feverish sweat off his forehead. Scrolled through Kingstagram. Held his breath.

After the longest few hours of Demyx’s life, Ansem stirred. Demyx got him a glass of water. “Here,” he said in a tone that was much more strained than he intended. “Drink some water. Keep up your fluids.”

He sat up slowly and touched his brow. “...Boys?” Ansem asked. “What are you doing here?”

“You fell ill,” Ienzo said, with difficulty.

“That is rather… embarrassing.” Ansem took the water from Demyx, and didn’t meet his eyes. 

“What do you remember?” Demyx asked. 

He frowned. “It’s all rather… hazy,” he said. “I was delirious, wasn’t I?”

“Something like that.” Demyx sat back down. “Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?”

Ansem held his gaze blankly for a moment, and then something seemed to spark. “Oh, dear,” he said softly. “I do believe… I was to do something reckless.”

“Reckless?” Ienzo asked incredulously. His face had turned pink. 

Ansem turned to Ienzo. “My dear, sweet boy. How have you ever forgiven me for all I’ve done? Why? I left you there, with that… monster.”

Demyx could see Ienzo trembling, and trying to keep it contained. 

“I have not even played a decent role in your recovery.”

Demyx felt like he was watching something too intimate. He started to go to the other room. 

“Please stay,” Ienzo said in that same strained voice. Demyx understood. He stood behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders, feeling the incredible tension there. “Forgive me. I am… reeling.” A peal of thunder made him jump, slightly. “I can act as your… son, in this moment, or I can act as a therapist. Not as both.”

“I want nothing more than your honesty, Ienzo.”

He exhaled heavily. “I was told so many lies.” Ienzo spoke so softly that Demyx had trouble hearing him over the rain. “Lies about your sanity, about supposed experiments on children, about your… ulterior motive for adopting me.”

Ansem went to speak, but Ienzo held up a finger.

“And those lies…” His free hand was clutched tightly in his lap. “Those lies mutated the truth, mutated my memories. In dealing with this… guilt, I have been trying to forgive you, to realize now that your abandonment was not one by choice. I know that. But my heart…” His voice broke. “In my heart that trust is no longer there.”

“I do not desire your forgiveness, Ienzo. Nor do I deserve it.”

Demyx could feel him trembling. Ienzo needed him in this moment, for whatever reason, which is why he remained present, but he felt he were being a voyeur, watching something far too private. 

“I…” His breathing grew more ragged. “I feel… used. Did you use me?”

“That was never my intention.” The pain stretched Ansem’s face taut. “I wanted to give you an opportunity. You were a bright light in a growing darkness, and I hoped to give you a chance to use your brilliance for good. But I… I should have let that be your choice. You should have been given the chance at a childhood, a real one. Rather than spending it wrapped in matters too mature.” Ansem took Ienzo’s hand. 

“Did you truly desire an end to your own life?” he asked. 

“Pain creeps unbidden. It is… difficult to fight it off.” 

“I don’t want that.” Demyx could hear Ienzo’s breaths quivering. “I don’t want you to--”

“Then I won’t. Simply as that. I owe it to you, to live. I owe you so much more.” Ansem wiped, shakily at his eyes. “I am glad for your honesty. It gives me a sort of strength. If I know what is wrong, I can try to mend it.”

“I want that.” He was crying freely now. “I want that very much.”

Demyx handed him a clean handkerchief. Ienzo squeezed his hand once.

“Would you leave us?” Ienzo asked. “I do believe there’s a lot to say.”

Demyx kissed his salty cheek. “Okay.”


	9. Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After witnessing Ansem's fragile mental state, Ienzo is deeply unsettled.

Still

Ienzo did not sleep well.

The bed was almost too soft, Demyx’s reassuring touch almost too much. Moonlight poured through the thin curtains, turning everything blue and silver. He sat up and pulled his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt heavy, achy, almost.

Demyx, never exactly the deepest sleeper, stirred when he felt him pull away. “Ienzo?” he rubbed at his eyes. 

“I’m alright. Go back to sleep.” It sounded like the lie it was. 

Demyx shuffled towards him. Ienzo did not make eye contact, knowing very well that one little toehold would push him over the edge. He kept his gaze, stubbornly, on the dresser against the wall in front of him. 

A hand brushed his shoulder. He flinched.

“Please. I don’t wish to be touched right now,” Ienzo said. 

“Sure. Sorry.”

He took a deep breath, trying to do it quietly. 

“Can I get you something? Would that help?” Demyx asked. “Tea? Water? I’ll get you some water.” Ienzo glanced up through his bangs and watched Demyx’s shadow retreat into the kitchen. 

He remembered a time when Demyx had been oblivious as a brick. Now he was almost painfully aware of everyone’s feelings. Ienzo felt the cool glass pressed into his hands. He didn’t lift his eyes, didn’t dare. 

Demyx settled at the opposite side of the bed, by the window. “It’s alright to be upset over what happened, you know,” he said softly. 

“I am fine.” Heat rushed to his face. “I will be fine.” When he drank, he could feel the solidifying lump in his throat, hard and painful. 

“...Okay,” Demyx said weakly. 

He tried to remind himself to breathe. “I think… I think I need to go for a walk.”

“Now?”

“I can’t sleep. And I need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Demyx, I am sure.” Ienzo’s tone came out sharp. 

“Alright,” he said, stung.

He slid on a sweater. Shoes. His vision was blurry, wet. Ienzo flicked on the gummiphone’s flashlight, seeking no direction other than forward. He could feel sweat building faintly along his hairline, despite the cool night. 

Ienzo couldn’t be sure how much time passed. Everything was a blur, his mind swirling with unpleasant emotions. He could taste them in his throat.

Ansem’s words pressed up against his ears.

How do you comfort someone who’s hurt you?

In one of these myriad hallways he found an alcove, and sat on its cushioned bench. The effort of fighting this was worse than the emotion itself, like vomiting.  _ Just do it and get it over with _ , he told himself.  _ You’ll feel better. _

Ienzo pulled his knees to his chest. He felt more fragile and malleable than ever, like spun glass. Hearing it all--the hours and hours of it--almost made him wish to be unfeeling once again, to be empty, a chalice. 

A vessel?

He took a deep breath that seemed to hurt the inside of his lungs.

“Ienzo?”

His head snapped up, and a flush rose to his face to be caught in his private misery. Aeleus, on one of his night rounds, looked at him quizzically, the flashlight blinding him. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He lowered the flashlight away from Ienzo’s face.

“I needed…” Ienzo’s voice was dangerously unsteady. “I needed some space. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve found you wandering alone.”

“It’s not typically considered wandering when one is an adult.” Ienzo set the gummiphone’s flashlight facing up, so there was a little light. 

“Even so. You’ve always had trouble sleeping.” Aeleus folded his hands complacently in his lap. 

“A malady I seem prone to, for whichever reason. I think my circadian rhythm might be better suited for a role like yours.”

Aeleus cracked the faintest smile. “I do not mind it.”

“I know you don’t.”

A few moments passed in silence. Ienzo felt a rush of affection for Aeleus, for the way he didn’t push. 

“I like the night, now,” Aeleus said. “I didn’t always. It is very calm. You can feel the difference.”

“...It is, isn’t it?” He let his head rest against the window. Ienzo looked down briefly, seeing nothing but more wings of the castle and the great blue beyond it all. “When I was little, I used to pretend this place was a dungeon,” he admitted. “I would try to find all different kinds of ways to escape. There are many nooks and crannies and passages, if you know where to look.”

“A dungeon?”

“A medieval dungeon. And I was a vigilante.”

Aeleus smiled again. 

“I even made myself a little bow and arrow, out of a willow twig and some string. I have no idea what happened to it. Must’ve dropped it somewhere, I presume.”

“Things come and go, but always turn up eventually,” Aeleus said. He sat back a little. “We should’ve gotten you toys.”

The phrase undid something in Ienzo, something that had calmed during this conversation. He turned away from the window. 

“Ienzo?” 

The heat rose to his face. He pushed against it and pressed a hand to his aching chest.

“You are upset,” Aeleus said. 

“I… yes.”

“Is this because of what happened with Ansem?”

“Partially.” 

“You don’t bear this burden alone.” The simplicity with which he spoke only worsened the knife of pain in Ienzo’s breast.

“I do believe I am in mourning,” he said shakily.

“For what?” Aeleus asked calmly.

“I don’t know,” he said through his teeth, and started to cry. 

Just like vomiting, the actual act of letting himself get so worked up felt horrible. 

“Don’t hold onto it,” was the only thing Aeleus said. He did not touch Ienzo, did not try to verbally console him. He was simply  _ there _ , but in the moment that was all Ienzo needed.

It seemed to take a long time for the tears to stop. When they finally did, his eyes burned and he had an awful sinus headache. He felt exactly as empty as he’d wanted to be, but it was not a pleasant feeling. 

“I am sorry,” he said thickly. 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. This must have dredged up a lot of… difficult emotion.”

“Quite. I think… I think I will go and rest, now.”

“You should. It will be sunrise soon.”

“Aeleus?”

“Ienzo?”

Ienzo embraced him. He may have been grown now, but he still felt so small compared to him. He smelled like fresh cut grass and something vaguely citrusy. Aeleus patted Ienzo’s back with one large hand. 

He got up, feeling lighter than before. 


	10. Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx loses a patient, and it dredges up painful memories of the past.

Too Late

It was an idle sort of day.

The air was just starting to barely feel like summer, blowing softly through the door at Merlin’s. Aerith was running an errand for the committee, so Demyx was duly filling in for her, but so far nobody had stopped by. He was getting better at this; it was getting easier, week by week. That didn’t lessen the anxiety of this newfound responsibility. 

He plucked listlessly at Arpeggio, letting the melody go softly wherever it wanted to take him. The stone floor felt good in the warmth, even if it hurt to sit on. Merlin had said he could use some of his cushions, but Demyx wasn’t  _ that _ comfortable with the committee, and with his not-quite-membership in it. He didn’t live and breathe love for the city; not yet, anyway.

He thought he heard yelling in the street. Adrenaline burned in his veins, and Arpeggio disappeared with a flash. It didn’t sound like fun. Demyx poked his head out the door. He saw Yuffie running towards him, her face flushed, one arm bloody. “Where’s Aerith?” she asked.

“I’m filling in for her--are you hurt?”

She looked at her arm as though seeing it for the first time. “It’s not my blood,” she said, her violet eyes going steely. “Get some stuff and come with me. We need you.”

Together, they ran down to an area of new construction. Demyx tried calling her, but he got mostly Aerith’s voicemail. “It’s not her who’s hurt?” he asked Yuffie.

“No. She had some stuff to do with Leon out beyond the fissures. No signal. Too much rock.”

“You’re telling me these things can send texts and calls across  _ worlds _ , but a little  _ rock _ screws them up?”

“It’s fucked,” she agreed. "But the ground is crystal."

As they got closer, he could feel the tension increase palpably. He could see the cartloads of wood and scrap metal that were being used to repair the houses that the growing population demanded; one of the carts was at an odd angle, its axle snapped, bits of metal everywhere. 

Cid was applying pressure to the wounds of a young man Demyx had only ever seen before in passing. There was a frighteningly large pool of blood beneath him, and a large piece of shrapnel lodged in his belly. Demyx found himself hoping that someone would come to fix this; then, he realized,  _ oh shit, that’s me _ .

“I’ll go try to find Aerith,” Yuffie said, and ran off again.

A jittery panic caught in his throat. He’d seen some bad shit, but nothing  _ quite _ this immediately threatening. He crouched by the kid, trying not to kneel in the blood. “Hey there, I’m Demyx. I’m going to help you.”  _ I am calm, cool, collected. _ He let the warmth of a spell lick across his hands and held it out to sense the extent of the injuries. 

The boy’s brown eyes were wide, frightened. At least he was conscious and aware. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he said to the boy, then to Cid, “What happened?” 

“We were lifting up some support beams for the roof. He must’ve crouched down to tie his shoe or something, but the damn cart broke, fell on top of him, and then…”

“He got impaled,” Demyx finished. He bit his lip. The spell was sending all sorts of little pings through him, and it took a second to sort through them. Most of the major arteries of his abdomen were severed or damaged. He quickly took a needle and some blood replacement fluid and pricked the first vein he could find. He gave the bag to Cid to hold. Cast a spell to kill the bacteria and clean the wounds. He tried quickly to repair as much as the damage around the puncture as possible, but the boy’s frightened, anxious aura wasn’t helping much. Demyx lent him some of his energy, immediately feeling a touch woozy as the boy eagerly took it. 

He felt the censor spell pulsing and tingling uncomfortably. There was so much wrong. Blood in the lungs. The boy’s vitals were all over the place, his blood pressure critically low. Demyx was working as quickly as he was able to, trying to staunch the bleeding somehow, but it wasn’t taking-- _ why wasn’t it taking? _ The healed arteries were reopening, the hemorrhaging worsening. He pushed harder with his own aura, trying to use it to heal the boy where his own had failed. The consciousness in his eyes was fading. “Stay with me,” Demyx said to the boy. “Please, help me--”

He felt it happen, felt something slip, felt the boy lose consciousness. The heart rate, precarious enough as it is, dropped off completely. 

“No,” he hissed. He cast another spell, to try and restart the heart, but again, it was rejected. He remembered something that Aerith had taught him, in the early days.

_ We can fix what’s broken, but we can’t wake the dead. _

With a shaking hand, Demyx reached up and closed the boy’s open eyes. 

He couldn’t catch his breath. Without something to focus on, he was spiraling back and back, seeing quite suddenly in his mind’s eye another body, with another piece of metal lodged into it, a Keyblade snapped in two. 

“I’ll call the coroner,” Cid said softly. “You stay here, with him.”

The blood was so bright against the gray rock. The boy looked pallid. Demyx realized he didn’t even know his name; he hadn’t known the name of the Keyblade wielder, either. Tears spilled from him disjointedly, and it felt like his chest was being squeezed in a vise. He took the needle out of the boy. Numbly, he pulled the jagged piece of metal free, and laid a cloth over the gaping wound. 

The sound of running footsteps seemed so horribly loud. “I’m sorry,” Aerith said. “I’m so sorry--oh.” She knelt by the boy’s head, shut her eyes, and whispered a prayer. Demyx only heard the tail end of it, the “...may the spirit go free.” She took Demyx’s hand. “This happens. I’m sorry, but it does. No matter how hard you try… they go.”

A rough, ugly sob caught in his mouth, and he covered it with one hand. “I did everything. I--”

“I know. I know you did. You did your best.”

“I’m so sorry.” He kept looking at the dead boy, the Keyblade wielder flashing behind his eyes. 

“I know, it hurts,” Aerith said. “It’s not your fault.”

The sobs sprung free with panic. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Cid said gruffly. Their voices sounded like he was underwater. 

“Come here,” Aerith said. She guided Demyx away from all the blood, towards the boy’s head. She rubbed his back.

“His name,” Demyx wheezed when he could catch a single breath. “What was it?”

Cid’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Ryan.” He glanced towards Aerith. “Maybe I should take him somewhere quiet so he can calm down.”

“I want to stay.” Demyx forced the words through his teeth. 

“Then you have to try to breathe for me.” She squeezed one of his hands tightly. 

Demyx tried to listen. Seeing the body had unraveled something in him, something sour and horrible. He couldn’t stop crying.

The coroner, a middle-aged woman with jet black hair, came and took the boy away. Seeing the blood and other bodily fluids left behind somehow made it worse. 

“I’ll… clean this up,” Cid said. He shook his head. “Leon’ll want a report.”

“Thanks.” Aerith hefted Demyx gently to his feet. “Come with me.”

Everything seemed to be a bit of a blur. He found himself sitting on the couch in her home, a damp towel around his neck. 

Aerith handed him a cup of tea. “This will help you calm down.”

Numbly, he took it. He’d never actually had a calming draught before, and found it tasted almost cloyingly sweet. The effects were almost instantaneous; the sharpness of the panic blunted, and it was easier to breathe. 

Aerith sat down next to him. “Better?”

“Yes.” Demyx set down the empty cup on the coffee table. “Sorry.”

“I remember the first time I lost someone.” Her eyes seemed to go somewhere else. “Her name was Sylvia. An eight-year-old girl. She started having seizures, and the seizures caused an aneurysm… it all happened so quick. I know exactly what you’re going through.” She took his hand. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He wiped his face with the towel. His eyes were still watering freely. “I… I have PTSD?” It sounded like a question. “You should probably know that.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “I still don’t really know the triggers. Usually it’s stuff related to the past, but…”

Aerith cocked her head slightly. 

“I probably shouldn’t do this anymore, if this is what happens. Right?”

“There’s no reason for you to give up. Not completely. Maybe you’ll need help.”

“The panic could kill someone.”

“Cid said you remained collected until after it was over.”

“Yeah, this time, maybe. But what if.”

She sighed. “That’s almost unnervingly practical,” she admitted. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go with you on any more major injury cases. We can see how it goes. And there’s no reason for you to stop treating illnesses.”

“Okay.”

She stood up. “Did you want another dose?”

“No. I’m… okay.” She took the cup into the kitchen. Demyx heard the running water. Maybe it was the numbness of the draught, but he found himself confessing, “There was a war.”

The water stopped. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.” 

She turned towards him.

Demyx took a deep breath, tasting the draught. “So I’m not exactly… from this time? I’m from the… from the past.” He swallowed the excess spit. “I was in the Keyblade War. The first one.” The words spilled from him. The unions, the Foretellers, the Dandelions, the battle his own stupidity had led him into. Seeing the mangled, impaled bodies of the Keyblade wielders. 

Aerith listened patiently. “I… I had no idea,” she said.

“I don’t exactly broadcast it.” He knotted his hands. “Isn’t there a way to heal this? Isn’t it… a… brain injury?”

She tugged at the end of her braid. “Yes and no,” she said. “I can heal the damage it’s done to your brain, but the trauma would still be in your heart. And I can’t do anything about that.”

“Oh.” He forced a smile. “Worth a shot, I guess.”

“...A lot of people here can relate,” she said slowly. “Their traumas are different than yours, but they can understand.”

“Like you?”

She smiled sadly. “For months after the Fall, I had to sleep with the light on. I still have trouble. I dream about it, sometimes. It was Cid who got us out--he had a gummiship. When we took off, we could…  _ see _ what was happening. If you know what I mean.”

“I do. Yeah.”

“It doesn’t feel much like healing. But it is.” She tapped her fingers together. “You have friends here, you know. Who care about you.”

“The same goes for you.”

“As I’ve come to realize.” She wiped her wet hands on a towel. “I’m going to go brief Leon. You should go home and get some rest. I’ll have him call you about it tomorrow.”

“...Alright.” He took the cloth off his neck and set it down. “Who… who told the family?”

A furrow appeared in her forehead. “He had no family.”

* * *

Demyx was more thankful than ever that he and Ienzo had their own apartment. Everything seemed so  _ loud _ . He didn’t need Even or Dilan asking questions about his swollen eyes, or the blood-stained knees of his jeans. In a daze, he poured some of the stain remover mixture Aerith had given him (“your new best friend”) over the blood and draped them over the radiator to dry. He took a long, hot bath, cried some more, and lay in bed. A sinus headache was blooming behind his eyes, but he was too tired to go get a painkiller. It suited his mood.

There was a faint knock at the door. He wondered if Ienzo had invited Ansem over for tea, as he was wont to do. Demyx ignored it. There was another knock, louder this time, and then his phone pinged-- _ It’s me _ . Ienzo. “Come in,” he said hoarsely.

Ienzo was still wearing his reading glasses. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone,” he said. He hung his labcoat on a hook by the door. 

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

Ienzo crawled under the covers. “I heard what happened.”

Demyx groaned. “I bet everyone knows.”

“Aerith told me. She was worried about you.”

“I… I kind of had a panic attack.” He held onto the pillow for dear life. “The way he… died, he got impaled by a piece of scrap metal. It reminded me of… the war.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said simply. “You can’t help these things.”

“I know that, but it raises the question of whether or not I can do my job.”

Ienzo stroked his cheek. The touch was almost too much, and Demyx felt an onslaught of fresh tears, and a pang of pain behind his eyes. “It doesn’t make you less competent.”

“My competency doesn’t matter. Who knows what my triggers are? What if I’m with a patient and I get triggered and they die, not because I was too late, but because the panic makes me do something wrong?” Demyx’s anxiety was inflating; the calming draught must have worn off by now. “She said she’d go with me to major injuries, but that’s not always possible.”

“You can’t do more than you can,” Ienzo said. “I think you should take it easy for a few days. We can talk about this. Maybe we can identify some of the more heady triggers, and that can prepare you for how to deal with them in the field.”

He didn’t quite believe it, but he said, “Maybe.”

“I wish there were an easier way to make this stop hurting.”

“He had no family. He was trying to build his life.”

“It’s unfortunate. But think of it this way. As least he died doing something worthwhile, and not through darkness or violence.”

“...That’s true,” Demyx said wearily. 

Ienzo drew him closer and held him for a long time. 


	11. Revision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While getting his help with the memorial project, Ienzo has a troubling conversation with Dilan.

“Thank you for finding the time to look this over for me.”

Dilan took the roll of plans from Ienzo. “Of course. I’m glad to do it.” He settled down at the work table across from Ienzo. “I best use these skills before I lose them.” He gently unfurled the prints, taking in Ienzo’s handiwork with an unreadable expression. Ienzo kept his face angled towards his book, but peeked up at Dilan through his bangs.

There was still a seed of awkwardness between himself and Dilan. Even in the past they had never been very close, and as Nobodies their personalities had utterly repelled. Dilan was not the only one who could help him, but Ienzo figured it would be something of an olive branch. 

A small smile played on Dilan’s lips. “You could draft much more neatly on the computer, you know,” he said. “Rather than physically manipulating all this paper.”

“I’m aware of that. Though for some reason I feel a strange aversion to it.”

“Your funeral.” Dilan flicked through the plans, circling things here and there and making notes in pencil. “This irrigation and drainage situation confuses me. I understand the… symbolism, of it, but we must also consider the practicalities. I’ll look into that for you. Perhaps there’s something that can be salvaged.”

“I appreciate it greatly.” Ienzo glanced down at the text and tried to read. His vision was starting to worsen; he wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the loss of his powers, an accumulation of a dozen years in front of books and screens, or if it were simply his natural state. It was hard to absorb the words. His heart was beating too quickly; Dilan was the first person who had laid eyes on the plans, aside from Demyx, and he was much more objective. He had to wonder if he was doing the right thing.

“Ienzo?”

“Yes?”

There was something cynical in his wide violet eyes. “I think in practice the design will be quite lovely. Most of the changes are more logistical, and something I’ll have to take a look at. An environmental study, if you will.”

“...Of course.” 

“But there is one thing that causes me some concern.”

Ienzo looked up. Dilan smoothed one of his plaits back from where it had come loose. 

“In this… history, do you plan on publishing our names?”

He frowned. “Well… it’s a matter of public record. Isn’t it? People  _ remember _ Ansem the Wise, they  _ remember _ us as the ones who did these experiments.”

Dilan crossed his arms. “I merely wish to not make your life more difficult than it already is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Then I’ll put it simply. Go public in this way, and you may face more blame than you can take.”

It took Ienzo a moment to fully process what Dilan was implying. “I’ve had my guilt--twelve years’ of it,” he said. “This gesture… is to help us all grieve. Not just us, but those who lost their loved ones. Have you faced a level of scrutiny that I have not?”

“Not to my knowledge--but people are fickle.” Dilan pursed his lips. “I’d hate to cause trouble when we cannot… slip free, so to speak.”

“If anything, this is the opposite of trouble. I do not believe that we will face undue hardship--these people have suffered so, why should they suffer more bringing us to supposed justice? Even if that were the case, wouldn’t we deserve it?” A heat rose behind his cheeks. “In fact, we should consider ourselves lucky that there is no real, consistent legal system yet in place. And that the committee considers us allies.” Ienzo clutched his hands together, tightly. “If I may ask. Don’t you feel guilty, Dilan?”

He grit his teeth. “I am not heartless,” he said slowly. “Nor do I have the excuse of being a child at the time of the atrocities.”

It was becoming clear. “Dilan, I’m afraid that in order to move on we have to accept what we did, and feel that pain and that remorse. I tried defending myself from it--and I almost was destroyed in the process.” Thinking of those endless, sleepless, wrenching weeks when he sought to help Sora made him feel sick. 

To his surprise, Dilan chuckled a bit darkly. “I’m not afraid of  _ pain _ ,” he said. “Nor am I afraid of consequence. I will accept my fate and be pleased it is not worse. No. I suppose if anything I am afraid of the hypotheticals we were willing to explore.”

Ienzo swallowed. He had a feeling he knew where Dilan was going with this. “We needn’t discuss this,” he said softly.

“This is part of it, Ienzo.”

A cloud passed over the sun, dulling the bright light that previously filled the library’s alcove. 

“Those… children we brought in,” Dilan said. “Did you ever think that we might make you one of them?”

“My memory has become… hazier.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment. “I recall, however, you and Even arguing that I might… consent to something, or another.”

“That is correct.”

He took a deep breath. “If you all had not willingly cast aside your hearts that day, what would have happened?”

“I am not sure.” Dilan’s eyes were glassy. “That is why I find coming to terms with this so… difficult. Moreover, what would you have done?”

He felt a twitchy smile cross his face. “I probably would have submitted to it.”

“We cannot hope to erase these betrayals,” Dilan said. “Or the atrocities.”

“But we can apologize. Publicly. Gracefully.” He sighed. “And we can do our best to make this world better.”

Dilan’s expression lost some of its wryness. “...I suppose we can.” He shook his head. “It is not fair of us to let you do all this alone.”

Ienzo looked down at the revisions. “There will still be a way you can help.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it’s too late for some of us to be saved.” He stood, and for a moment he reached out with one hand, as though to touch Ienzo. “That is not necessarily your burden to bear.”

“I don’t believe it’s too late.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t talking about  _ you _ .” A slight pause. “We lied to you, Ienzo. As much as we like to blame this on Xehanort, on his influence, I cannot change those facts. We knew how brittle you were after your parents’ deaths, and yet, we still saw fit to tell you Ansem had abandoned you. Those… ripples of trauma. How can you merely move on?”

Something hot surged under Ienzo’s breast, and he couldn’t find the words.

“Aren’t you angry?” Dilan prompted. “All this talk of Ansem’s betrayal… really, we were the ones who betrayed you.”

He felt as though he were being shaken, the ability to form coherent sentences slipping out of his grasp. He felt himself getting taken back and back, through the annals of memory, to that time of confusion and lies. He left the room, ignoring Dilan’s further prodding, and tried to cover up the panic before he unraveled more.

* * *

The conversation threw Ienzo. He found himself sitting in front of the window in the apartment, trying to make sense of what Dilan had said. He loosened the ascot at his throat and ran the fabric across his fingertips in an attempt to self-soothe. 

Were they truly beyond forgiveness?

Forgiveness was such a subjective concept. So much stemmed from it, yet it was so aqueous, hazy. They were not entitled to be forgiven for what they’d done--as apprentices or as Nobodies--but so far nobody had questioned them, or truly looked down upon them. Yet, if he were looking at it from a purely moral standpoint,  _ shouldn’t they? _ And then what? There was no law enforcement, no jails--during Ansem’s time as ruler, he’d strongly believed in rehabilitation of those who had committed all but the most arduous of crimes. Towards the top of the list? Dismemberment of a human being. And arguably, their experiments had led to the dismemberment of  _ meta _ physical beings--

They’d lied to him.

Ienzo buried his face in the ascot’s folds and tried to steady his breathing. He heard keys jangling in the door’s lock and nearly sprinted for the bathroom for privacy, but the panic had him in such a way that it was easier not to move.

Demyx’s reaction was predictable. “Hey,” he said slowly. He came over and sat next to him on the sill’s cushion. “Breathe with me.”

He tried. He could feel his heart beating as quick as a mouse’s. 

“Do you want me to calm you?” Demyx asked. 

“Yes,” he hissed through his teeth, in a stranger’s voice. Ienzo heard him go to the kitchen, heard running water. He was handed a glass of water that was tinted vaguely green. It tasted too sweet, and he almost gagged on it, but he forced himself to drink it all down.

The effects were almost instantaneous. He felt heavy, but the adrenaline stopped burning in his veins, and his airways loosened. “Better?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo reached out for him and felt himself getting drawn close. He laid his head against Demyx's chest. The beat of his heart was grounding.

“Did something happen?” Demyx asked.

“In a sense.” His breathing had stabilized, but there was something wheezy about the way he spoke. To Demyx’s shoulder, Ienzo asked, “Do you feel guilty?”

A slight pause. “In general?”

“About bad things you might have done. In the past.”

“Well--to a degree--of course.”

“Do you think I’m beyond forgiveness? That all of us here are?”

Demyx pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “Of course not--who put that bullshit idea in your head?”

“Dilan.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He scoffed. “The guy’s a real ray of sunshine.”

In a few clipped sentences, Ienzo explained what had happened. Demyx processed it for a moment. “I mean, I agree we totally did some real fucked up shit. But you… you went above and beyond to try and put things as right as you could when it came to the experiments. And even if you hadn’t, Ienzo, you tried so hard to help Sora, to point yourself in the right direction. That’s not for nothing. The others, too. Even, with his vessels. Me, delivering them, and healing. And I’m sure everyone else has their own ways of making up for what happened. I’m sure the public sees that.”

“Don’t we deserve some kind of punishment?”

He raised his eyebrow. “You don’t think a decade’s worth of trauma is punishment enough?”

“I… suppose.”

“Even whether or not we deserve forgiveness, we’ve  _ been _ forgiven. So all we have to do is try our best to live up to it. Right?”

Ienzo dabbed at his damp eyes. “You’re right.”

“It’s like you said. Panic hates logic.” Ienzo allowed himself to settle back against him. Demyx wrapped his arms around his waist. After a moment, Demyx spoke again. “Not to be, like, fake deep or whatever, but trauma and guilt are so wrapped up it’s hard to tell one from the other sometimes.”

That was true.

“Also it sounds like he was projecting  _ hardcore _ onto you.” 

Demyx was stroking his hair. Between that, and the medicine, he was feeling drowsy now. “Since when have you studied psychology?”

“Not so much studied as listened to you. I've learned a lot that way.”

“Am I supposed to feel sleepy?”

“It can happen. Why don’t you nap for a little while? I’ll make some dinner.”

Against Demyx’s collarbone, Ienzo mumbled, “Alright.” He tried to find the energy to stand, but Demyx hefted him up and carried him over to the bed. Ienzo wondered if this was what it was like to feel drunk. “I feel… fragile.” He curled under the covers.

“You’re really not.” Demyx kissed his forehead. “Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Remain stable.”

Demyx knelt by the bed. He looked sheepish. “I hate who I was as a Nobody, but the thing about Demyx… he could really take the slings and arrows.” He shrugged. “I try not to let the bad things get to me. If they do, I… well. Talk through it, write through it, play through it. I try to keep telling myself that… things will be okay.”

“And you believe that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I’ll try to believe the same.”

Demyx kissed Ienzo’s hand. “Get some rest.”

He drifted off into a haze of uncertain dreams.

* * *

Ienzo woke, suddenly, in the middle of the night, his breath catching audibly in his throat, the vestiges of memory not quite freeing him. The sensation of breathlessness shouldn’t feel familiar, but it did. He sat up and pulled his hands through his hair; the calming draught must have worn off.

Something was coming undone; he had enough wherewithal to understand that much.

So much for being intelligent and psychically strong; Dilan’s words had opened a vein of scar tissue, spilling free pain he hadn’t been aware he’d had.

They’d lied.

It was easy to blame Ansem for his problems, but really he wasn’t at fault; they were. They let this happen. They were going to--

“Ienzo?” Demyx sat up. “What’s going on?”

The room was dark, the quarter-horned moon not quite enough to see by. He tried to form words. This was not so much going nonverbal as losing hold of something. A thick sob caught under his tongue.

“Hey,” Demyx said. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

He felt himself getting drawn close, and the pressure of arms around him was welcome. The sobs sounded like they were coming from someone else. He couldn’t stop it. The severity of these revelations was almost too sharp; he realized he was squeezing Demyx’s arm very tightly and tried to let go. 

Even once the sobs had stopped he felt curiously barren, a heat replacing the awful stillness. “What’s wrong?” Demyx asked. “Was it a nightmare?”

“Of a sort.” His voice sounded hoarse. “I must… I have to talk to Even.”

“Right now?” Demyx smoothed at Ienzo’s hair. “Can it wait until morning?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled away from the embrace.

“At least let me come with you,” he hedged. 

“No,” Ienzo said, with more sharpness than he thought. “No, I… I can’t.” He fumbled for shoes, his gummiphone, his robe. 

“I’m worried about you,” Demyx said.

Ienzo hesitated. “Go back to sleep,” he said, in a voice he hoped was placating and not as unhinged as he felt. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He went down and down and down the well-worn halls, the light of his phone harsh and unreal in the darkness. He suspected he was not mentally stable, but in that moment it didn’t matter. 

The door to Even’s lab, normally locked, was open.

There he was, a single lamp all that was illuminating the room, bent over a book, scanning feverishly for something, his blond hair falling over the pages. At the sudden noise, Even flinched, and looked over his shoulder. “Out for a nighttime stroll?” he asked drolly. “Or did you have a lovers’ quarrel?”

“You lied.”

Even paused, but didn’t seem surprised. “What is this about?”

“You lied to me. About Ansem.” He was breathing hard, and fought to get it under control. 

“Yes, I know. I thought you did, too.” He turned towards Ienzo. 

“I want to know why.” His words were failing him, caught in a maelstrom of meaninglessness. “Why did you all do it to me? Did you think I would not understand? That I--” His eyes warmed with tears. 

Even sighed. “It is… handy to blame it all on Xehanort.” He drummed his fingers against his knees. “Truthfully, I like to think that it came from a place of protection. But that is all bunk. It we were to separate you from Ansem’s influence, then we could continue our work, unfettered. Simply… if you had nothing but us, you would rely on us, and comply with us. I cannot overstate it--as soon as it happened, I regretted it, Ienzo, because I saw how devastated you were. But by then it was too late to undo the damage. And I was a weak and selfish man. I really did believe we were better off without him.”

The explanation fell, heavily, at Ienzo’s feet. The hand holding the gummiphone trembled. 

“It is one of my biggest mistakes,” he admitted. He clucked his tongue. “I cared, but I didn’t care enough, in the right way. I should’ve--as soon as we did what we did, I should’ve tried to retrieve him. Or at the very least, tried to take you out of that situation. Let you grow up normally, and not become a stunted husk. But I didn’t. I… I held my work above all, and in the process, destroyed what was most important.” His green eyes were bloodshot. “Does that answer your question?”

Ienzo still struggled to breathe, but the heat in him was cooling, hardening into something heavy and painful. 

“I do not expect your forgiveness,” Even said softly. “I do not deserve it, either, after all the suffering I’ve retroactively put you through. But know that I… I am trying to atone. To grow. It is so… difficult--Ienzo?”

A rough sob cut the speech in two, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Even stood, and reached out to touch him, but Ienzo flinched. 

“You are not well,” Even said. “Sit.”

He sat on the cot that served as Even’s bed and hugged himself tightly. 

“Pain hides in pockets,” Even said. “Compartmentalizes. You knew of our betrayal, but for whatever reason, only now are you processing what it meant to you.” He exhaled. “If you wish for us to have no further contact--”

“I don’t wish that,” he said. “I… I want to trust you. If only because the thought of holding onto this is too much.”

“Then don’t,” Even said gently. 

“You’re all I knew.” 

“...I know.”

“I wanted to please you. I would've done anything to impress you.” He shook his head. Things inside of him kept shifting, refusing to take form. “Once it all started… I never wanted people to get hurt.”

Even sighed, a derelict sound. “Nor did I. But then… I convinced myself that it was all alright, not only because it was in the interest in something greater, but because our victims supposedly consented. To be more colloquial, denial is one hell of a drug.”

Ienzo tried to stem the flow of tears. It seemed as though they were coming from the past itself.

“The only person you owe forgiveness is yourself,” Even said softly. He took Ienzo’s hand and, when he didn’t pull it away, gave it a squeeze. “Remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this piece came from a Tumblr post--and I can't remember the URL of the person who posted it unfortunately--about Ienzo and his relationship to the Dad SquadTM. There are a lot of fics and ficlets that explore Ienzo's relationship with Ansem and the anger he feels towards them, but relatively few that deal with the fact that Even, Dilan, and Aeleus essentially betrayed him much more harshly, and when he was more vulnerable. And me, loving to make my boys suffer, wrote... this.


	12. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hidden diary sparks an unexpected conversation between Demyx and Ansem.

_ Excerpt from a diary _

I still think about them, sometimes. How can you not?

Like, I’ll be out and about, working or just doing me, and I’ll see something out of nowhere that reminds me of them. The colors in the marketplace, the smell of the flowers in the garden. Their faces are less and less clear every day, it seems. More than anything I remember the armor.

It’s almost harder to lose people who didn’t care about you.

I’ve talked about it over and over again, the way it supposedly makes me  _ feel. _ But truthfully? Working with the sick and dying… reminds me of the sick and dying. I still feel it, in my bones, like half completed fragments of song.

Ienzo doesn’t know about this diary. It shouldn’t be easy, to keep a secret; it’s not like he can read it, anyway. (Thinking too hard about which language to write in just gives me a headache. There it is again. Suddenly letters; suddenly runes. Thank god-or-whatever for pencils.) 

I’m not okay. These things come and go in waves, like the world’s shittiest coda tacked on to an otherwise good composition. Maybe it’s because I’m just so tired, but I can feel the weight of the past, heavy, icky, sticky. 

Times like these I don’t want to exist.

I’m not going to pull an Ansem and disappear into the rain. I figure if I die again, this time it’ll really take. And I don’t want to die. I want the world to stop spinning, the memories to stop aching.

I’m not me, without the memories; I’m him. He haunts me, too, the absolute asshole. I can see him in my dreams, hear the brash laughter. 

I’m sorry this makes no sense. But it’s not like anyone’s going to read this. 

There’s Ienzo. Time to smile. It’s fine.

* * *

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Did you forget?”

Demyx scrambled to hide the notebook with another text. “Sorry. Busy day.”

Ienzo kissed him. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, just my case notes,” he said breezily. 

“So things are going well?”

“Fine. Yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Ienzo stared at him blankly, and Demyx wondered if he could see it on his face. “...Shall we go, then? I’m quite hungry.”

“Sure.”

They set off, into the outside world, the cooling autumn day. Ienzo chatted about the next phase in his project, which included an oral history surrounding the Fall. “It is… harrowing work, but I feel it is starting to make a difference. Hiding the past, and all the pain therein, is so much more stressful than the truth.”

Did he know? He had to know. “Yeah. I bet.” How could Ienzo put up with all the pain, so easily? 

“It is… something to focus on,” he said, looking down. “Aside from that, I haven’t the slightest idea what I  _ want _ to do.”

“What about the gummiphone? Weren’t you expanding its programs?”

“We’re at something of an impasse,” he admitted. “There’s the question of how they threaten world order.”

Demyx hummed. “People are already starting to figure it out.”

“Well, so many are still displaced. And it takes a certain skillset to hide such things, which is difficult for the traumatized.”

Demyx considered the irony of this. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I’ve been thinking.” He looked up at him. “What is the worst that could happen? The worlds already have suffered so much, independently. Couldn’t we be stronger, together?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It truly is a tetchy situation.” He sighed. “And ultimately it is not my decision to make. I’m not sure  _ whose _ it is.”

Demyx listened to him speculate. The world felt quiet, staticy, a bit numb. He knew he should stop Ienzo, should tell him right now about the wave that threatened to drag him under. Work through it. Rewire himself. He took a deep breath--but the words didn’t come. “So what do you want for lunch?”

“Hm, something out of the ordinary. I’m feeling adventurous.”

Demyx drifted alongside him, listening, listening… 

* * *

There were missed calls from Ven, and a slew of texts. That was one thing about the gummiphone--people could  _ tell _ when you were purposefully blowing them off.

The worst thing was that Ven wasn’t even mad, just concerned.

_ You okay? Haven’t heard from you in a while…  _

_ Couple of things I remembered. Do you remember that girl’s name, the one Lea and Isa knew? I can see her face so clearly but her name… I know it’s a shot in the dark--this is important. _

_ I’m sure you’re busy… get back to me when you have a sec? _

Demyx took a shaky breath. Knowing Ven… just made this worse. He erased any shadow of a doubt that this was all some impressive delusion of his. 

Ven would understand better than anyone how this felt. Demyx’s thumb hovered over the call icon. He couldn’t bring himself to press it. 

* * *

It was a nightmare he hadn’t had in a long while. Sora, a Keyblade, blood on the green and blue tiles. It was almost boring.

_ Oh, we do too have hearts. Don’t be mad. _

God. Shut  _ up. _

_ Silence, traitor. _

Who was he kidding? Who had really been the traitor? He’d carried that vessel himself, so willingly, the second Vexen dangled the slightest scrap of validation.

The vessel he’d brought to Ienzo. Ienzo, asleep in the bed near him. 

As quietly as he could, he got out of bed, got dressed, and started walking. Things were starting to feel a bit scratchy. Demyx held himself tightly, his hand over his ribs. For the savior of the worlds, Sora really had been ruthless. 

He returned to the library, to find his diary hidden under the healing theory text he’d covered it with, but when he got to the desk where he’d left it, it was gone. There was nothing. His heart was beating unevenly, but he took a cold comfort in the fact that nobody could read it.

“...Looking for something?”

Ansem’s voice made his hair stand on end. Demyx tried to smooth his face, to come up with a good excuse, and found none. “Just a book I left behind,” he said. “It’s Aerith’s.” His Nobody self had been a hell of a lot better at bullshitting. “I couldn’t sleep, thinking about the case, and--”

“That so?” Ansem brandished the notebook. “Then what’s this?”

“My case notes?”

“In a language Aerith can’t even read?”

He felt like he was slipping. He heard himself breathing hard. “It’s easier for me to write in.”

Ansem gave him the notebook. “If you truly seek to keep something private, I would suggest a cipher,” he said.

Demyx’s head was spinning. “You… you read it.”

“I’m a predictable academic. It took me far too long to realize that these writings were current. Nice touch, getting the old paper.”

He felt like he might faint. “This wasn’t  _ for _ anyone,” he spat, but his mustered venom was weak. “This was…  _ mine _ , it’s  _ private _ .” The indignation was almost stronger than the shame. “How… how  _ dare _ you, you--”

Ansem smiled sadly. “I… apologize,” he began. “Once I realized that it was yours, I stopped reading immediately. You write much differently than how you speak, which threw me off the scent, so to speak.”

“How much did you see?” Demyx couldn’t breathe. 

“Enough to worry. Enough to see myself reflected in you.”

He didn’t know what to say. “Did you tell him?”

“No. Demyx, these suicidal thoughts are not to be taken ligh--”

“I’m not suicidal.”

Ansem sighed. “Truly, you did not think it  _ normal _ to desire a cessation of existence? What was it you said to me? You’re here for a reason, Demyx.”

“I know.” Something was hot in his throat. “I know that, I--”

Ansem waited, but the words didn’t come. “I know how it feels, for memories to cleave the being. To despise who one once was. I, too, hid behind darkness to further my own agenda. Moreover, I also know how it feels to lose those close to me. And for my past self to be at odds with my present.” 

His breath caught. “So many of them died.”

“...I know. You couldn’t help but harden your heart, even as a Nobody. Why let anybody in, lest it cause more pain? I suppose, now that the memories are clearer and you’ve had time to process them, you’re struggling with the vulnerability you’ve found as a human. Is any of that right?”

He said nothing.

“Not to mention, your increasing self-deprecation, despite it being mired in jokes, can clearly be seen as a reflection of your own insecurities, creating a cycle you yourself cannot get out of.”

He could feel his eyes watering. “Did you just wait here to roast me, or--?”

Ansem sighed. “I do this because I care about you, and I can see you need help out of the dark place you’re in.”

“Why do you care about me?”

“Ienzo loves you. That aside, we have a peculiar connection. You brought me out of the darkness. You have a kindness and a tenderness to you that mustn’t go to waste.”

He tried to hold it back. Ansem’s rust-colored eyes were unraveling the anger inside of him. “I already ask too much of him,” Demyx said. “Ienzo. I can’t… he’s got enough on his plate without also dealing with… all this.” He gestured to himself. “It’s easier to pretend to be okay. He’s still so shaken. His anxiety… it hurts to see.”

“That is something I am also familiar with.” Ansem sighed, and shook his head. “But you cannot in all seriousness get through this alone.”

“I have before.”

“Then is not now.” Ansem’s voice was firm. “You need connections.”

“I know.”

“And you need to trust in them.”

“Do you?”

Ansem seemed thrown by this. “I am… trying.”

“See? It’s not easy when you have to put your money where your mouth is.”

To his surprise, Ansem smiled. “...Quite.” A pause. “We cannot expect to understand the hurt in our memories, or the hurt we’ve inflicted upon others. But closing ourselves off to the world--in any capacity--well. That’s not much better, is it?”

“No,” he admitted. 

“Let the people who care about you in. Even if the inside isn’t as pretty as you would like.”

“I will if you will.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

Ansem took it. “It’s a wager.”


	13. Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newness of Demyx and Ienzo's relationship takes some getting used to.
> 
> Timeline: shortly after short 1, "Privacy."
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

How does one qualify chemistry?

Ienzo found himself considering--with yet more consistency--the relationship between himself and Demyx, not so much emotional as intimate. These things were… difficult not to think of, especially if he were involved in something boring or menial, such as the data entry he was assisting Ansem with.

As a human he was so much more restless, figuratively and literally. His attention was rather… split. Daydreams were so much more pleasant than the reality, not helped at all by the fact that such daydreaming  _ could _ , in theory, become real.

He wanted. Endlessly. Twelve years of numbness made the lack thereof all the more noticeable. Demyx did nothing but enable this kind of madness. Such indulgences weren't uncalled for, he decided. He deserved it; they both did. Really the total number of encounters they'd had could be counted on a hand or two. This was all so new, a sort of limitless existence. There was so very much he didn't know.

They found themselves in increasingly stranger and more secluded spots; despite his return to health, there was always the cold consciousness that someone may… overhear, proving that anything they'd gotten away with previously was mostly due to luck. Ienzo got used to blankets, to floorboards; he did not get used to Demyx. Couldn't.

Such days usually followed a pattern; if they were brave enough to try sleeping together (in the literal sense), inevitably it lead to kissing, to hands in the right places, to the desire for more than some rushed and silenced petting before they had to get on with their days. Which lead to an agreement to meet  _ somewhere _ ,  _ sometime _ , leading to his day being completely shot in the foot because he could no longer think clearly, leading to more or less now, to Demyx coming through some door, to drawing or being drawn into his arms. 

Ienzo was being kissed. Or kissing; he wasn't sure. All he knew was that his breathing was rather audible and the leg around Demyx's waist seemed to burn where it was touched. They were sitting on the floor, Ienzo in his lap more or less, Demyx's hand tangled in his hair. He slid his tongue into Ienzo's mouth, soft, insistent, and Ienzo felt a shudder of something like overstimulation.

Demyx pulled away and rested his forehead against Ienzo's, gasping a little. "You alright?"

"Yes. You?"

"Just checking. I know things are still… new to you."

"Are they," he said to himself. More of a statement than a question. "It is overwhelming, to feel so much want."

He laughed a little. "Right there with you." Demyx kissed him again, though tenderly, in a way that made him shake. "Let's do something about that."

Ienzo knew any sense of respite or release would be temporary; he also knew this was part of the thrill. "Yes."

Demyx eased him down on the blanket. He unbuttoned Ienzo's slacks and slid them off, exposing skin to the air, a rush of anticipation flooding through him. Ienzo struggled to reach Demyx's shirt, tugging it off, his own shirt a mess of buttons. This dealt with, he realized being naked in front of him no longer felt so odd. 

Demyx tucked a strand of Ienzo's hair behind his ear. He was more wont to see Ienzo's entire face; Ienzo guessed his reactions were cryptic at best. "I want…" Demyx began. "I want you to tell me what feels good for you."

"I'll try." It was the most he could promise. He let his legs fall apart, feeling something like gratification in his expression; Ienzo could quite literally  _ see _ the reaction, unencumbered by clothing, and felt his own arousal getting stronger. Ienzo reached out, to touch him, the skin of Demyx's dick almost feverish against his palm; he felt the calluses of Demyx's hand along his own erection, gentle but firm, and he was almost lost in touch before Demyx pulled away, too soon. "Is this… all you wanted?" He asked breathlessly.

"No… forgive me, I was nearly carried away." His voice was loose, breathy.

He kissed Ienzo, once. Invariably, one of them or the other brought lube; best be overprepared. Demyx fumbled for it. "Does it… bother you, that I'm always on top?"

"Perhaps… when I'm used to things, I can explore the alternative," he admitted. "But for now… this is more than enough."

He nodded, turning redder still. "As long as you're okay."

"But what would please you?"

Ienzo heard something like a laugh. "Anything you'll let me do to you. It's so… fucking intense."

"I agree." He could taste his heartbeat. "Can you--?"

"Of course. Sorry."

Ienzo felt the coolness of lube, Demyx's finger in him. They could not hop straight to it, as much as they may wish; the body had its limitations. In this odd interstitial period he reached to touch Demyx, his dick or anything else within reach, only to be gently rebuffed.

"It's too much," he said softly. "You'll make me--"

"...Right." The fingers inside of him were pleasant, but not at the pleasure he knew he was capable of.

"Focus on you," Demyx said gently. "What it… feels like."

As if he had a choice. Ienzo let his eyes shut, and felt the tip of him pressing inside, warm and familiar, longing scalding the inside of his veins. Demyx's body against his, a bit rough, a bit uncomfortable but all the more exciting. 

Demyx pressed into him a bit more, gasping softly. He waited a moment or so, chancing a kiss, and then began to move, almost hesitant.

Now that Ienzo was no longer  _ so _ unfamiliar with this, he was beginning to distinguish between the sensations, what was only good and what was something to seek. He exhaled shakily.

"What is it?" Demyx asked.

"It's a little bit deeper," he admitted, his face more red with embarrassment than anything else.

Demyx shifted slightly, to oblige him, and immediately Ienzo noticed the difference; he must have made some sort of noise, his breath catching in his throat. He clutched at Demyx's waist. "Like that?" He asked.

"Yes." It still felt so odd to talk while all this was going on. Everything he'd read (within the confines of fiction) had featured the lovers usually quiet, so in tune that it was borderline spiritual. It took some doing to draw his focus back to his body, though this was made easier by the way Demyx thrusted into him, slow and deep, right up against that spot (some errant trick of biology), bringing him close, but not quite all the way there. "A bit faster?"

He was breathless, his face flushed. "Sure." 

Ienzo had to admire his self-control; he could not imagine himself in that position, not yet. But with this adjustment, thinking became next to impossible, and he moaned a little. He grasped for Demyx's hand--and heard him laugh.

"I need that to hold myself up."

"Sorry." He barely recognized his own voice. "This all feels so--"

"I know, I--" He made some small noise, his eyes squeezed shut. "I don't know about you, but I think we've got it."

Ienzo laughed, for a second in an awe over how it changed the way they were connected. "As you said. Practice."

He hummed in response, somewhere beyond words, and seeing him like this only brought Ienzo closer to the edge. He wanted to put it off, if so for another few minutes, but it became clear this was not an option. 

"I'm about to--" For a moment it cleaved everything in two, this intense pleasure, making it hard to breathe, only heightened by the fact he could feel Demyx moving in him still, and then something like warmth and heat, the subtle but very noticeable twitch as he came within him. 

A moment of breath. Demyx eased out of him, visibly reeling a little, and then rested against Ienzo. 

"Are you alright?" Ienzo asked. He could still feel it in every inch of his body, making his skin all the more sensitive.

"Yeah, I…" He exhaled heavily. " _ Really _ a lot to feel."

"Same for me." Ienzo tried to catch his breath. He stroked Demyx's hair, which was slightly sweaty. It felt good to hold him after all that--Ienzo needed some help returning to earth, and the weight was welcome. The vulnerability of the moment was freeing. He bit his lip, but then let the words come out anyway. "I love you."

He laughed a little. “I love you too.”

“Something about that amuse you?”

“I guess so. Used to be like pulling teeth, getting you to talk about your feelings.”

“It did not help that I rather resented having them.”

“...That’s a mood.” Demyx settled more comfortably against Ienzo. 

“To be fair. You make things easier. I could not imagine being so frank with anyone else.”

“Yeah. I… know what you mean. Always used to hold my cards close my chest, you know?”

Ienzo blinked. He was feeling cold now, noticing more acutely the drying sweat along his skin. Funny, how he never noticed these things in the moment. He could not see Demyx’s face, the way they were lying. “It was a very strange facade,” he admitted. “Knowing you now, you always kept up  _ some _ personality, some sense of false openness, to distract anyone from what you were really thinking. You expressed opinions which were not necessarily your own. I had a suspicion you lived much more deeply than how you bore yourself, but at the time I was not interested.”

“I was a bullshit artist,” he said. 

Ienzo drew his fingers along the shorn part of Demyx’s head. “I prefer you like this,” he said quietly.

“I think I do too.”


	14. Explore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living together shifts the dynamic between Demyx and Ienzo.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

Living together changed things.

It was one thing to spend the night together--even repeated nights. Another to spend every day, and every night, in the same space. On the one hand, this brought them new freedoms. Those first few days, they spent a nearly embarrassing amount of time in bed.

There were other things, though. Like how Demyx liked to spend an inordinate amount of time in the bathtub. Not trying to get clean--just lying in the water.

“It’s relaxing,” he argued.

This was not always convenient, especially when Ienzo was trying to quickly get ready for his day, or when he really needed to relieve himself.

Simply put, it was a learning curve. And he was sure he had habits which also grated on Demyx’s nerves. But there were always places to escape; even merely to the other rooms on this floor. It felt mostly very… strange. He’d never lived with anyone like this. There was an intimacy in it, a vulnerability.

Perhaps more than he anticipated.

It was a gradual move, not all of a sudden. It started with them leaving a change of clothes, then cooking dinner now and again. Demyx seemed to spend the most time there; Ienzo couldn’t blame him, due to the uncomfortable bed in his old room. Bit by bit, their possessions seemed to migrate, until finally Ienzo was removing the last of his clothing from the drawers.

He couldn’t say he had very fond memories of this room, but it  _ was _ where he’d lived as a child. He’d lived through nightmares, though anxiety and tears. He’d made love for the first time here. This must be an ordinary thing to experience, this bittersweet nostalgia. He took the quilt off of the bed and folded it gently, leaving the bare mattress.

The door, previously cracked, opened. Even appraised him, and the now obviously-vacated room. “So that’s it then,” he said.

“Yes.”

Even stroked the quilt absently. “It will be odd to not have you around.”

“I’m not far. Just downstairs.”

“Even so. I only just got used to being in this place again. I feel I am growing much more slowly than you.”

“It isn’t a race,” Ienzo said gently. 

“No.” Even perched on the mattress. He smiled sadly. “You know, when Ansem first decided to bring you here, we reacted poorly. How on earth could we expect a child to thrive in this environment? Moreover, how could we care for one? But I think you brought a life into this place. An ambition. You were a reminder of the future we sought to create. You still are.”

Ienzo sat next to him. “Our relationship has been… strained. Yours and mine.”

“I’m aware.”

“We reformed… and you were gone. I know now, of course, why you did it. But things were overwhelming enough that I… I worried I’d lost the Even I’d known for good.”

Even looked down for a moment. “It is… tempting to blame it all on the thrall of darkness, but that is reductive. This whole process has revealed flaws in me that I once valued as strengths. I was selfish, devious, cruel. And I had no way of stomaching the emotional rot it would dredge up. Ienzo.” He took his hand and squeezed it. “I am proud of the person you’ve become. Even though I cannot flatter myself and take credit for it.”

“That is… very kind.”

“I’m glad the cards have fallen the way they did. We have all played our parts to perfection, including those of us who are surprises. Only now there is no more script.” Even brushed a strand of hair out of Ienzo’s face. “I do so wish you would let me cut your bangs.”

“I’m afraid you must get over it.”

He chuckled softly. “I suppose. You’re grown now, making your own decisions.” He paused, and added more soberly, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Ienzo looked down at the bundle of clothes in his lap. “Yes,” he said. “I… I do love him. And I want a future with him. This is part of that.”

He nodded slowly. “Better him than a stranger, I suppose.”

“A stranger would not be able to understand.”

“No. You’re right. I’m glad you’ve found what happiness you could.”

“Thank you. I am too.” He felt himself blushing. “I  _ will _ still be around.”

“And I should like to see this place sometime.”

“Of course.” He picked up his things. “I should head back. We have plans for lunch.” Ienzo had reached the door when he heard Even speak again.

“Ienzo?”

He turned. “Yes?”

“Is it very strange, to be in love?”

He blinked. “No. It is as natural as breathing.”

He supposed this might be what happiness felt like. This could be in part because there were generally more endorphins in his system; touch, sexual or otherwise, factored into his days more than it used to. It could be because he tried to take better care of himself, and because he was healing. Or perhaps it was because the weight of existential dread had lessened, leaving him more room to dwell on other things.

Ienzo explored the memorial with more fervor. He had to honor these people, their memory. They may have been at peace, but their relatives surely weren’t. The ripples of the fall remained in Radiant Garden, pregnantly. It was hard to know just how many people had been killed, or had fallen to darkness, but the population was a mere fraction of what it once was. He studied the work of a performance artist who had specialized in gathering oral history, and drafted questions. He was sure others had stories to tell surrounding the situation. He really should try and document it as part of his work.

These questions filled his mind as he went home for the day. Demyx insisted that studying for seven or eight hours at a time was more than enough for the adult body to handle, and trying to get himself on that schedule was a bit of a challenge. It was physically difficult to tear himself away, but he found that with adequate rest he was able to work more efficiently. Who would’ve thought. He smiled wryly. 

His key caught a little in the door’s latch, but when he did open it, what he saw baffled him. Demyx was already home; he must’ve just gotten in. He was sitting on the bed, facing the window, his arm moving oddly, almost like he was--

No, not almost. He  _ was _ .

Ienzo left the apartment quickly, feeling a heavy blush heat his cheeks. He heard a muffled swear and some scrambling. He leaned against the door, feeling chagrin wash through him. This was uncharted territory, though there was nothing  _ wrong _ going on. His heart was beating thickly. After a moment or two the door opened again, and he noticed that Demyx was as embarrassed as he was. 

“I’m sorry,” Ienzo said. “I didn’t realize--”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“You did nothing wrong. It’s normal. Natural.” This was his home, too.

Demyx bit his lip. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Maybe we should discuss this inside.”

“...Maybe.”

A bit stiffly, Ienzo crossed over to the couch. Demyx sat next to him, leaving perhaps a bit more room than he was wont to normally. Demyx bit his lip and picked at the hem of his shirt. He hadn’t put his pants back on, just his underwear, and it looked strange. “I’m sorry,” he offered. 

“I hope I didn’t interrupt things too prematurely.”

“No. Um. Not at all. I was just… starting.”

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed for,” he blurted. “I… I’ve never seen it.”

“No?”

“No.”

Ienzo exhaled shakily. “Sometimes I feel like such a blushing maiden.”

To his surprise, Demyx started laughing, and it was contagious. Of course there was humor in the situation. How wouldn’t there be? 

It didn’t take long for him to sober, though. “...May I ask you something?” Ienzo asked.

“Sure.”

“Do you do this sort of thing often?”

“Ironically? No.” He rubbed his arm sheepishly. “We just… we’ve both been busy this week, and I was feeling--”

He nodded slowly. It was easier sometimes than others to push the desires away. The somber material of his project helped. “What do you think about?”

Demyx gave him an odd look. “You mean when I--”

“Yes.”

The blush returned, creeping down along his neck. “...You, mostly,” he admitted. “Things we’ve done. Things we might do. You know.” He dropped his eyes.

Ienzo felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment. “I see.”

“Is there a reason why you don’t?” Demyx asked quickly. “Is it… like, you’re not ready, or what?”

He considered this. His hands were trembling, and he pressed them between his knees. “I’m not sure, honestly,” he admitted. “Sometimes my body feels so alien to me, and adding desire to it is so confusing. It’s one thing when we’re making love, or what have you. But on my own I… feel incredibly self-conscious. So I usually push those thoughts away. I’m not used to being anything other than a vessel.  _ Having fun _ or  _ feeling good _ aren’t exactly on my agenda when I’m alone.” Realizing how pathetic this sounded, he added, “It helps that you are more or less apt at satisfying me.”

“And that’s great for my ego. Not so great for you, though.”

Ienzo shrugged. Cross-examining the feeling was only making it stronger. A mixture of lust and something like self-loathing made him resist the urge to squirm. 

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Thinking a bit too hard about things. As usual.”

Demyx kissed him on the cheek. “You shouldn’t do things you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know. I don’t think that’s the issue.”

Demyx stood and went over towards the kitchen. Ienzo, on a whim, stood to follow and nearly tripped over the rug. Hearing this, Demyx turned, and they crashed up against each other.

“I really am no good at this,” Ienzo mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?”

Ienzo kissed him. He felt Demyx hesitate, and nearly took the hesitation as a lack of consent, but before he broke away he felt Demyx kiss him back. The warmth of it almost--but not quite--chased the chagrin out of him. Ienzo wrapped his arms around him tightly. It was a puzzle like any other, and one he would have to figure out. One he  _ wanted _ to solve. He slid his hand under Demyx’s shirt. The skin was near feverish. Demyx pressed his lips along Ienzo’s jaw and throat. Ever so slowly Demyx started working at the buttons of his shirt, then let it fall. 

Ienzo could feel himself shaking, want curling around him. This was a part of him now, and he couldn’t necessarily set it aside when he was done with it. Nothing about humanity was ever that convenient. He eased Demyx’s shirt off and ran his hands over the smooth, slender muscle. He gratified in the gasp he heard and felt fumbling at his waist, at the buttons of his pants. He stepped out of them. Demyx broke away from the kiss. “What?” Ienzo asked.

“I have an idea. If you’re okay with it.”

A shiver of anticipation shot through him. “I’m listening.”

“Let me know if you want to stop.”

Demyx turned him gently away, facing the fireplace and kitchen, but what he saw didn’t matter much at all. He began to kiss him, his skin, the fragile scarred skin at the nape of his neck and his shoulder. Ienzo grasped his hand tightly. The sensitivity of the scars only made things still more potent, and he fought for air. 

“Is it okay?” Demyx asked softly.

“Keep going.” 

He did. Their bodies were pressed tightly together. Ienzo could feel Demyx’s dick up against him, warm and insistent, and he wanted--

Demyx’s free hand slid down between Ienzo’s legs, touching him first through the fabric of his underwear, then under it, before he finally shed the garment. His skin was buzzing. He wished it were easier to touch Demyx as well, but reaching back was awkward for the most part. Ienzo could feel him grinding up against him, which only intensified everything. Demyx stroked him almost too slowly, too gently, and Ienzo pushed against his hand. Where was he going with this, exactly? He could feel himself getting close, but not quite close  _ enough _ , and after a second the hand disappeared. He exhaled sharply. Demyx brushed his hand against Ienzo’s, trailing against his fingers and wrist, all the while kissing him. He took the hand and placed it, so lightly, against the erection, and a small sound caught in Ienzo’s throat.

“Crossing a line?” Demyx asked.

He shook his head. His own skin was flushed, feverish, and he felt at it curiously. He was too close  _ not _ to do something about it. It did feel odd, but not as strange as he’d thought. He gasped and kept going, a lush combination of being kissed and ground against distracting him from the fact that it was mostly he who was doing all this. The tension hitched suddenly and he came, the warmth startling against his palm. He wiped it quickly on his thigh and turned, kissing Demyx on the mouth and bringing him into his hand. It didn’t take long to finish him off.

As Ienzo’s thoughts grew clearer, something inside of him eased, a weight he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto. They hugged each other tightly. Demyx touched his face. “That wasn’t going too far?” he asked.

“No. I told you so.”

“I know, but I…”

Ienzo kissed him once. “I… I’m kind of glad,” he admitted. He let go of him and grasped at his underwear, feeling somewhat exposed now. “Maybe I can learn to synthesize these two parts of myself.”

“I hope so.”

“It’ll take more than one realization.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it now?”

He snorted.

Demyx smiled. “I’m more than happy to help you explore.”

“I’m sure. One thing at a time.”

“Of course.”


	15. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Aerith's tests leaves Demyx with an unanticipated award.
> 
> TW for (very) mild drug use.

Demyx was tired of looking at leaves. His eyes burned, and there was a crick in his neck from being bent over the countertop for most of the morning. He was pretty sure he was going to permanently smell like anise seed. He stuffed the pills he'd made into their pouches and wiped his hands on a damp rag.

Aerith offered him a glass of lemonade. “I’m surprised you haven’t complained.”

He took it. The tart sweetness almost, but not quite, masked the taste of the herbs he’d been breathing. “My strategy now is to try and ignore it.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“Ignore it? Or complain?” He sat gingerly on the stool and felt his feet throb. 

She appraised his handiwork. “A lot of our work has to do with endurance. I gave you too much to do, in a manner that was intentionally confusing, on purpose.”

He held back the urge to groan. “So this was a test?”

She smiled. Aerith had a mischievous side, one he was still getting used to. She sorted through the pills and packets he’d made. Anxiety only made the ache in his feet worse. After a long, long moment, she said, “Not bad.”

““Not bad” can also mean “not good.””

She brought her eyes to his. “You made no awful mistakes. The medicine would do its job. It’s the finer points that you seem to have trouble with. Like this migraine powder. There’s no oil or anything to mask the flavor. It’d work--but it’d taste very bitter, which is the last thing a person in that much pain wants.”

Demyx exhaled. “Right. That makes sense.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s only been a few months. You’re bound to make some mistakes. This will all be second nature at some point.”

He stood and flinched when he took back his weight. He really needed to invest in some better shoes. “I want to be good at it  _ now _ .” The only thing that had ever come effortlessly to him was music, and even that was hard won these days. He started to put away the excess herbs in her apothecary chest. Aerith’s handwriting was notoriously bad; reading the labels felt like something of a test too. 

She touched his shoulder. “And I’m happy you’re so passionate. But don’t rush the process.”

He nodded and made himself smile. “Right.” He was just about to shutter the cabinet when one of the smaller drawers in the corner caught his eye. It wasn’t--no. He pulled it open and saw the buds neatly wrapped in cheesecloth, probably to cover the smell.

He didn’t need training to be a healer to recognize this plant.

“Is there a particular reason you just have a drawer full of weed?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It  _ can _ be used as medicine, you know.”

“Yeah, I… know.” He shut the drawer.

“Did you want to take some? I don’t mind.”

“I don’t  _ need _ it.”

“But do you want it?”

Demyx didn’t know how to read her sometimes. “I… don’t know.”

“So take it. Smoke it or not, I don’t care. Just give me a heads-up if you want the night off.” 

“...Sure.” He held the drug, feeling like he was doing something wrong even though he’d easily carried far more potent painkillers. Embarrassed, he tucked it into his pocket. “Thanks. I think.”

She smirked. “We all need to cut loose every now and again.”

* * *

Demyx made dinner that night for Ienzo. His own cooking was never inspired, and it all seemed to come out bland no matter what he did to it. Ienzo’s food tasted better, but it wasn’t necessarily fair to always make him cook, especially now that they lived together.

He thought a lot about fairness, these days. He guessed it had something to do with getting continually trod on his whole life. 

Before he could spiral along that path, he heard the door open. “Hey. How was your day?”

Ienzo set aside his glasses and phone before giving him a kiss. “Productive. I started my first draft.”

“Can I see it?”

“It’s not nearly ready.”

They took their meal at the small oak table. “You’ve got a funny look on your face,” Ienzo said. “Something happen today?”

“No, not really.” He stirred his rice aimlessly. It was a bit undercooked. His rice always came out that way, or else it was mush. He blamed the front stove burner; it was a bit too hot. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever done drugs?”

This seemed to amuse him, more than anything. “Why is it you ask?”

“It just hit me that I kind of have easy access to them.”

“Well, most of the substances you work with aren’t exactly for recreational purposes.”

“Mm. True. Except Aerith kind of gave me a bag of weed?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” Demyx took it out of his pocket and put it on the table. Ienzo poked it with the tip of his fork. 

“I suppose she must use it as a painkiller,” he said. 

“You can look at it, if you want.”

“I’m… fascinated, despite myself.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose that answers your question. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Have you… indulged in such things?”

Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck. “A few times,” he admitted. “It was usually offered whenever Luxord had one of his poker nights.”

“I do wonder what happened to him. I hope he’s well.”

“He was fun to be around.” Demyx sighed. “If his Nobody was killed, he’s whole now.”

“I hope he’s as happy as we are.”

A moment passed. They contemplated the bag on the table.

“Should we do something with it?” Ienzo asked.

“Like smoke it? Would you want to?”

“I’m… curious. That is if you want to.”

“I think it would be fun to get high with you.”

“Exactly. Fun.” There was something analytical in his gaze, though. 

“I just have to let Aerith know I’ll be out of commission. Then we can do whatever.” He felt a blush heat his face as he texted her. Though how was this worse than drinking? Not that he did that often anymore, either. All she sent in response was a thumbs-up emoji. With slightly trembling fingers he took the fragile papers out of the bag and tried to roll a joint. He’d never done this, only seen it done. Ienzo watched with interest. Demyx half expected him to start taking notes. “Let’s go over to the couch.” 

Ienzo handed him the box of matches they usually used for candles. They sat, knee to knee, as if about to commit a crime. 

“I’ll start it.” It took two tries to get it lit, and he coughed. Already he could tell this stuff was stronger than whatever sketchy stuff Luxord or Xigbar had purloined. He handed it off to Ienzo.

“How do I--”

“Just breathe, but not too deeply. And hold it for a few seconds.” 

Ienzo did so. Demyx had to admit that seeing him do it was funny. He coughed as well.

For a few minutes they passed it back and forth, not saying much. Already his head was feeling light, watery. 

“I’m not sure I feel anything,” Ienzo admitted. “Am I supposed to?”

“You might not.”

“It tastes… interesting.” He tapped some ash into an empty glass. “How odd, the things people will do for  _ fun _ .”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’ve  _ seen _ some interesting things. On missions and whatnot. But then there’s always this veil of impersonal...ness.” He trailed off, and touched a hand to his brow.

“You alright?”

“It stopped.”

“What?” A little wave of fear broke over him.

“The anxiety. It stopped.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s part of it too.”

Ienzo leaned back heavily. “How  _ strange _ . I feel so…” He stumbled over his words. “Things feel more the same than I thought. Just slightly… bigger.”

Demyx laughed. “You’re stoned.”

“Am I?”

“I think.” He took the last drag off the joint and ground it out. He felt warm, sleepy. 

"The silence is just so lovely," Ienzo said. "My head is always so full of noise--you have no idea. Everything is always too much."

"I can help you, you know. I can give you medicine which will help. Er. Well, like, actual medicine, not this."

He lay on his back and rested his head in Demyx's lap. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"Afraid who I'd be without it?" His eyes were glassy. Demyx brushed the hair from Ienzo's face and looked at both his eyes. "It's the most constant thing in my life. From the past, I mean."

"I don't want it to eat at you, though."

"No." Ienzo took Demyx's hand and began to toy with it, feeling at his fingers absently. It was hard to tell how much of this was weed or how much of this was true blue Ienzo, without the weight of fear or inhibitions. "I will consider it. Truthfully. This is the happiest I've ever been. It may just be my nature."

"Could be."

Demyx stroked his hair. It was so soft. He couldn't believe how soft it was. "God, I'm high," he mumbled.

Ienzo snorted. "You're not so above it all."

"Do I normally seem that way?"

"I can feel you detach yourself sometimes. That you take care of me sometimes instead of yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Demyx looked at him for a long time. "I feel like I'm pretending to be the person I want to be. I want to  _ be  _ better than I was. But it's hard. I get mad. I get frustrated and upset. Slipping into old habits would be so easy." Ienzo shut his eyes.

"I am listening. That feels very good."

"You're like a cat. Independent. Curious. Stubborn."

"Hard to win over. Hard to get rid of."

"I don't ever want to get rid of you."

He smiled. "How sweet."

"I can be very sweet. When I want to be."

Ienzo touched his cheek. "It is in your nature."

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, I am.” He opened his eyes. “We’ve changed so much. And we’ll probably keep changing.”

“I know.”

“It feels… strange.”

Ienzo’s expression was sharp and serious, but Demyx couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter that caught in his throat.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“It’s not  _ funny _ ,” Demyx said, and it was true; the laughter was divorced from his actual emotions. “As it is  _ terrifying _ .”

“We’ve nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s hard to get myself to believe that.” His eyes were watering. “Sometimes I swear I’m going to wake up and this will all be gone.” He was verbalizing thoughts he hadn’t been aware of. 

“I know. I feel the same. But that is simply… simply not the case.” Ienzo sat up and tried to fix his hair. “I wish I could prove it to you.”

“...Zexion would never have been this nice to me.”

He smiled. “Demyx would never listen so emphatically.” Ienzo kissed him. “Our lives have been full of odd coincidences, but I’m glad you were one.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“To even calculate the odds of us existing at the same time--much less falling for one another--it must be one in a trillion.”

Demyx groaned. “I do  _ not _ want to think about math right now.”

“I second that notion… I feel a tad dizzy.” 

“Lay back down. It’ll pass.” 

He did, pressing his face into one of the couch cushions. “This sensation is so curious,” he mumbled. “I should like to… examine it in more detail.”

Demyx laughed. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but the idea of Demyx and Ienzo smoking weed together was too funny to resist...


	16. Unlucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine case with a vengeful patient leaves Demyx with more than he bargained for.

It had been kind of a long day. Drizzly, but in a vague sort of way, as though the sky couldn’t make up its mind. Demyx only had one call left before shift change, and a last-minute one; a woman had badly cut her hand by the marketplace and needed help. It would be a quick fix, at least, before he could go home and collapse into bed.

The population around here was getting to be more dense, though it still paled in comparison to many of the cities he’d visited. A few people he’d healed greeted him. He still struggled to remember all their names. 

The woman was waiting by her front door, her face ashen and drawn. She had a towel wrapped tightly around her hand, and it was soaked through in places. “Good, you’re here,” she said.

“Ouch, what’d you do?”

“Trying to do some slice and dice on some vegetables… and, well…” she shrugged. She was youngish, maybe thirty or so. Her apron had splotches of blood on it.

“It happens more than you think.” He smiled. “I can fix it. Why don’t you sit down?”

She sat on her stoop. He could barely see the inside of the small home, the onions and tomatoes sitting on a now-dirty cutting board. A bloody knife. A kettle had been put up, but was not yet boiling. 

Demyx sat next to her. “How’s the pain?”

“It stings more than anything. The peppers, you know.” She bit her lip.

Before unwrapping it, he gave a quick scan of the wound, and cast a spell to coagulate the blood. He set the bloody towel aside. It was a clean cut, but one that probably would’ve had trouble healing on its own. He cleaned it quickly. She hadn’t even lost much blood, and it was shallow enough that it wouldn’t scar with a spell. He had it fixed in five minutes. The woman flexed her hand. 

“You’re all set,” he said. “Just try to be careful next time, okay?”

“Oh, before you go. I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?”

Demyx hesitated. “That’s really nice of you, but I should let you get back to your dinner--”

“I insist.” She smiled widely, revealing straight, even teeth. “It’s the perfect kind of day for it.”

“Uh… sure. Thanks.”

She went back inside and came back a moment later with two mugs. “It’s a special blend. I made it myself.”

“Oh, are you a botanist?”

She laughed superficially. “You could say that.”

Demyx sipped at the tea. It was incredibly bitter, and he tried not to flinch. “The taste really is… unique.”

“Thanks. I thought so too.” She didn’t sip at her tea immediately.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I guess, in a sense. I just moved back in a few weeks ago. This was my sister’s house, but she… well.” The woman sighed. “She fell to darkness some years ago.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m getting along just fine on my own.”

He drank the tea probably too quickly, eager to get rid of the sour taste. “That’s good. I’ve noticed the people here are really friendly. You’re in good company.”

“I’m sure I am.” He wondered if he was imagining the dark undertone of her voice. She had been talking about her dead sister, after all. “We seem to be pretty welcoming to just about everyone.”

“Yeah… I really like it.” He tried to smile. “Thanks again for the refreshment. I’ll see you around.” Demyx realized he hadn’t even asked her name, but when he turned back to fix this, she had gone inside and shut the door. He brushed off the weirdness as a lack of social skills and started the long walk back.

It did seem much longer than usual. His calf muscles were getting tighter as he climbed the shallow incline, even though he usually took it a few times a day. Demyx attributed it to exhaustion, the weather. Once he was on the flat surface of the postern it didn’t fade, however, and in face the ache seemed to be creeping steadily upwards. He tried to think about what it might be. Potassium deficiency? Dehydration? He’d probably feel better with water and rest.

He kept making his way upstairs. The cramping was getting worse, more uncomfortable, almost painful now. Had he burnt out again? That had felt kind of similar. It would figure. Broken bones and pneumonia were high-cost heals, and he’d had a couple. He started to dig in his kit for an ether, found half of one, and had just brought the bottle to his mouth when a sharp pang in his chest made him double in two. The bottle fell to the ground and shattered, spilling the shiny green liquid all over the floor. “Shit.” He rubbed at the pain, trying to get it to ease enough to stand. A hot burning sensation replaced the pain, and his vision seemed to shimmer.

It wasn’t--no--

Demyx dug out his gummiphone and dialed Even. 

His voice was sharp and snippy. “Boy, I’m in the middle of something. What do you want?”

“I think I’ve been poisoned.”

* * *

Demyx couldn’t make it as far as the lab. His muscles were too tight, and painful, and he sat propped against a wall waiting for help. He dug through his bag with shaking, achy fingers to see if he had any antidote, but he’d used his last on a kid who’d accidentally swallowed cleaning products. He had to wait and hope he could make it until help came.

At least it was fairly quick. “What on earth did you do to yourself?” Dilan asked sourly.

“Not me,” he hissed through his teeth. He could feel sweat coursing down his face. 

“Can you walk at all?”

“Hurts too much.”

Dilan hefted him up like a baby. Being moved hurt worse than the stillness, and for a moment he thought he might faint. “You’re much lighter than you look.”

He tried to keep breathing. His head was swimming too much to try and figure out what had been done to him, and why. Even was smart. Even could handle it. 

“So what is this? An accident? A cruel prank?”

“Don’t know.”

“We’re almost there.”

Time seemed to stretch, elongate…

“Demyx, try to stay awake.”

“Sorry.”

There were so many damn hallways in this place.

“Here. Set him over here.” Even’s voice, high and stressed.

“He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness.”

A sharp stab of cool fluid into his arm. Demyx’s eyes fluttered open. He could just barely feel the canvas of a cot under all the pain.

“There you are,” Even said. Another pinprick, this one in his hand. “How do you feel?”

“Hurts.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I’m hesitant to give you anything while we’re trying to get you to metabolize this nasty business. I’m going to take some blood, alright? Let’s see if I can’t figure out what this is. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep a steady antidote drip.”

“Okay.” The words would’ve meant more to him if he could focus. His muscles were stiff, tight, and burning. Demyx wasn’t sure to be glad or not he was conscious. He shivered, hard enough that Even had trouble getting blood. Even tucked a scratchy wool blanket around him. 

"I should tell Ienzo."

"No," he hissed. "No, I'll do it after."

"You're very ill. You'll probably  _ be _ very ill for the next few days."

The generic antidote was making him more lucid, but it also made him more aware of the pain, insidious and awful. "That bad?"

"I'm still doing research. But you're lucky you recognized it and got to me when you did."

Through a sort of haze Demyx watched Even at work at the nearby table, watching him pipette blood and examine it under a microscope. 

Time was moving weirdly. It could've been ten minutes or two hours. The pain eased in the slightest. He was desperately tired, and desperately thirsty, despite the fluids he was taking. "Even?"

He looked up. "Yes?"

"Will I die if I go to sleep?"

He smiled sadly. "No, you're rebounding enough. Get some rest. You'll need it."

Demyx slipped in and out, never quite getting all the way asleep…

"It was quite alarming to see. I haven't yet gotten the story. I think you may be right, Dilan. Someone clearly has ire for us."

Demyx blinked. Something cold wormed under the skin of his hand. "What…"

Even patted his wrist. "A more specific antidote. Go back to sleep."

"What was it?"

Even frowned. He sat on an upturned crate next to the cot. "A type of neurotoxin that causes your cells to stop accepting water. Essentially, it would've been a very quick, very painful death from dehydration. Not to worry, I've made a serum which seems to be combatting it. Your vitals are already stabilizing."

Demyx considered the irony of this. "She must've known."

Even's eyebrows furrowed. "Who?'

"The person who did this." He tried to sit up, or at least prop himself up, but his muscles were horrifically sore. “About my old powers—”

"Don't move," Even said gently. "I figured you, of all people, would understand this part of palliative care."

The joke didn't phase him. "Why else would she use a poison to dry me out?"

"Who?"

"The woman, the one who--" Hot nausea brought tears to his eyes. "I'm going to throw up."

Dutifully, Even handed him a pail to be sick into. This dealt with, he tried to focus. 

"She gave me tea. After I healed her. I thought the cut was too clean, that she acted weird--"

Even sighed. "You gave her the benefit of the doubt. As any competent physician would." He paused. "Do you remember where she lived? We should let the committee know. The last thing we need is another maniac on the loose."

Demyx swallowed the taste of bile. He told Even what he remembered, but this exhausted him into a stupor. Even gave him another dose of the real antidote. He drifted off and woke suddenly, disoriented, is his own bed. There was still an IV in his hand. His head was pounding in time with his heart, an insistent thud like a metronome, and his stomach was sour. The blackout curtains of the room had been drawn, leaving it blessedly dark and cool. 

In the semidarkness, he did not quite realize that there were other people in the apartment with him. The lamp by the couch was on, and it was here Even and Ienzo sat, mumbling to one another too softly for him to make out. Demyx felt horrifically thirsty, and despite all the time that had passed and all the fluids he’d taken he still didn’t feel the need to use the bathroom. He wondered if the poison had done more damage to him than he’d thought, that it had fucked with his kidneys, and if he should say something. 

_ One thing at a time. Worry about sitting up first. _

A sharp, splitting pain in his ab muscles nearly made him gasp out loud, but he managed it at last, treading dizziness. His skin was tacky with dried sweat. 

The muffled conversation abruptly stopped. Ienzo stood and all but ran over to him. “You scared a few years off my life. Easily,” he said. He pulled Demyx into a gentle embrace, and if he hadn’t been so dehydrated he probably would’ve cried. Demyx couldn’t help but lean into the comfort. Too soon, Ienzo broke away and touched his face. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, wonderful,” he said hoarsely. “I could run a marathon.”

A twitchy, anxious smile broke the tension in his brows. “Are you still symptomatic?”

“Well I feel like roadkill. Like a hangover times one thousand. But the worst of the pain seems to have stopped.”

“Good.”

Even gently steered Ienzo out of the way and took Demyx’s pulse. “Aerith appraised you when you were unconscious,” he told him. “You should be alright, more or less, so long as we keep your electrolytes up to snuff. The antidote seems to have worked before the poison caused lasting damage. I’ve made more, in case our little friend decides to strike again.”

“I’m still so thirsty.”

“I’m sure it must feel that way. You’re getting more than enough fluids.”

Ienzo turned towards the window, peeking through the curtain at the moonlit night. His arms were crossed and he clutched his elbow so tightly Demyx could see the knuckles were white. He wanted to console him, but considering his brain felt like it had been microwaved all he could focus on was how shitty he felt. “Can I change clothes?” Demyx asked Even. “Maybe take a bath? I feel gross.”

Even raised an eyebrow. “Do you feel up to it?” he asked. “You should really rest first.”

“I’ll feel better. There could still be vestiges of the poison in my sweat. Which I’m kind of covered in.”

“That’s a fair point. Ienzo?”

He jerked, as though startled.

Even squinted at him. “Could you help him? I’m sure he’d prefer you over me.”

“Yes. Of course,” he said stiffly. 

Standing was treacherous, and he had to lean heavily against Ienzo. In the privacy of the bathroom he let Demyx undress, his back turned as if they didn’t see one another naked on a regular basis. Demyx hung the IV fluid on a rack normally devoted to towels and settled in the warm water. “Well, this is humiliating,” he said slowly. 

Ienzo sat on the covered toilet. “I’m sure.”

“I feel like an invalid.”

“You’re very, very weak.” He sighed. “While you were resting, I studied that compound. Things could’ve been so much worse, Demyx.” His voice trembled in the slightest. “It could’ve caused irreparable, irreversible damage to your brain. You could’ve had memory loss, or been paralyzed-- _ why are you laughing? _ ”

The deadly anger of his tone sobered what little humor Demyx had found. “I can deal with memory loss.”

Ienzo paled, his anger dissolving. “Yes… that was… tactless of me.” A pause. “You could’ve lost so much, aside from your life. Motor skills… the ability to speak…”

“Motor skills?” He looked at his wet palms, which trembled faintly. He hoped it was from anxiety and nothing deeper. Aerith would’ve said something, right? “You mean I couldn’t play Arpeggio?”

“Amongst other things.”

He’d been too sick to realize it. He could handle the thought of death, even being disabled, because there was nothing wrong with not being able to walk or talk. Whatever would have happened, he could handle and adjust. But losing Arpeggio? Again? He felt wetness in his eyes and tried to blink it back. 

“This is probably traumatizing,” Ienzo said softly. He took Demyx’s hand.

“Probably? You think?”

“I hope this is an anomaly, a lone act of cruelty. The committee is opening an investigation. Once you’re well, they want to question you.” He slumped a bit, as though his body weighed too much. “I am… furious. Even if this is revenge against the apprentices, there was no reason for  _ you _ to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Unless she knew about me being in the Organization.”

“That is… possible, yes. Even so. It would’ve made far more sense for her to target one of us.”

“I interact with people more. Maybe she was trying to send a message.” His stomach was feeling a little worse, and he settled more deeply into the tub. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “I had hoped Dilan was wrong, about the townspeople harboring grudges against us. I was naive.”

“You were hopeful.”

Ienzo looked up. There were tears in his eyes. 

“Maybe it’s got nothing to do with our pasts. Maybe she’s just crazy and wanted to hurt someone.”

“Maybe,” he said, though Demyx could tell he didn’t believe it. “Is it helping? The bath?”

“It feels good. I’m so sore.”

“You probably shouldn’t stay in too long. I’d feel much better if you were back in bed. I should probably change the sheets, in case you were right about it being in your sweat.” He stood. “I’ll do that now. If you need me, shout.”

Taking a bath wore him out. Once he had actually brushed his teeth and gotten dressed again, he fell asleep for an indeterminable length of time. When he woke up, he was still achy, still thirsty, but a little bit less so. He kept down tea and a bowl of rice, was able to get to the bathroom on his own. It was a small victory. 

Aeleus visited him. After all this time they weren’t very close, but Demyx appreciated the gesture regardless. “I’ve made you some bone broth soup. It’ll help get your strength back.”

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

He sat in the chair at the bedside. Ansem had taken Ienzo out for lunch, though he didn’t know that Demyx asked him to do this. Ienzo needed air, some time to decompress. “How do you feel?”

“Much better,” Demyx admitted. “I’m getting there. Slowly. I can’t wait to get this thing out of my hand.” 

“You gave Ienzo quite a fright.”

“I think it hit him harder than it hit me, to be honest.” Demyx bit his lip. “To a degree I think he thinks it’s his fault. That the woman was really after one of you, that this was some sort of revenge. It’s probably triggering him. That’s why I wanted him to talk to Ansem.”

Aeleus nodded sagely. “You know him well.”

Demyx laughed a little. “Well--I hope so. He’s hard to figure out, but I’m getting better at it.”

“You’ve become very considerate. Compared to then.”

He scratched the back of his neck with his untethered hand. His hair was a mess, but he saw no point in making it look good today. “I’ve worked really hard on that. The way I… used to talk to the others, makes me… ugh, cringe.” He bit his lip. “You want to know something really horrible? When Demyx heard about you guys at CO getting killed, he was  _ happy. _ As much as a Nobody could feel, anyway.”

Aeleus’s expression barely changed. “You had to develop a sense of empathy from scratch. I, too, hardened my heart. So to speak. It was the only way to get through.”

“I already asked Even and Dilan. But how did you end up with Ansem?”

Aeleus thought about this for a few minutes. “We can say it was… progress for progress’s sake,” he said slowly. “I was young, I was idealistic. I’d heard that Ansem was pushing the boundaries of what could be, and I… feeling somewhat stuck in a rut… craved that change.”

“Did you feel trapped in Radiant Garden?”

“I believe I did. To hear him speak of other worlds, of other cultures was… intoxicating. It changed absolutely everything. Now I try my best to not be jaded. This place… I hope to nurture it.”

Demyx understood. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job.”

* * *

He slept again, deeply, and woke up disoriented a little after noon. He felt weird, and it took him a minute to process that he only felt that way because he wasn’t thirsty. Demyx waited for Even’s confirmation, but getting rid of the IV made him feel a million times better. He was able to at least rest on the couch now instead of in bed. 

Aerith came by with Leon. She confirmed that the poison was gone from his system, but that he should still rest for another few days, at least until the fatigue dissipated. She made them tea and, exam and pleasantries over, they set to business.

Demyx told Leon everything he remembered, every detail to how she looked and acted, to how the tea tasted, where she lived. He’d told Even all this in a sort of fugue state. Giving the report made him feel vaguely nauseous. 

“We’ve investigated the leads,” Leon said. “It’s so weird. When Yuffie went to that home, there was nobody there. There was no sign it was even inhabited. We’ve asked around, and nobody’s seen this person in days. We’re thinking she came over with one of the last Traverse Town flights. Without a name, and without records… she’ll be hard to catch.”

Demyx bit his lip. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Leon sighed. “Yeah, us too. And we’ve let everyone know--not that it was you, but that  _ someone _ had been poisoned, and not to accept anything from strangers or what seems or tastes suspicious. The restaurant owners are all pissed at me, but I don’t do this to be liked.”

“Even has samples of my blood and the poison. If that helps.”

Aerith’s eyes brightened. “You know, it might,” she said. “Maybe if I can figure out where it came from, we can find out more about the person who did this.”

“I’d say you guys in particular need to be extra careful,” Leon said. “In case this was targeting you specifically.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you think it is? Has anyone ever, like, mentioned anything about us?”

Leon tapped his fingers against his notepad. “Not that I can recall. I sent Yuffie out to do some recon. She’s good with people. If there’s anything to be found, she’ll find it.”

“And at least we have and can make more of the antidote, should someone need it,” Aerith said. “It’s good you were able to recognize it for what it was.”

“I kind of have you to thank for that. That, and years of getting bitten by asshole Heartless.”

Leon smiled. “We’ll call you if we need more information. Though this brings up an important point. We need to know who lives here. What they’re doing here. Town is growing so fast. We’ve been so focused on the literal infrastructure that I nearly forgot there needs to be other infrastructure too.”

“Oh, bureaucracy.” He tried not to flinch.

“Sort of. We should start a basic census, at least.” He thought about this for a moment, tapping a pen against his chin. “Well, I hope you have a quick recovery.”

Aerith gave him a hug. “Be well.”

* * *

It took him about ten days before he was feeling normal. It definitely  _ felt _ like he’d been really sick for a long time. He’d lost weight, and ended up having to buy a belt because nothing fit right anymore. He hoped to gain a few kilos and get back into shape. Demyx was sure if he tried to do magic right now it would wipe him out, or worse. 

One of these days he and Ienzo took a walk into town to get some groceries. At first, a flutter of anxiety crept under his skin, because even though Leon said they kept his identity hidden in terms of the poisoning, he feared  _ everyone _ would know. But they were treated more or less normally. 

“I figured I’d use this time as an excuse to bake more,” Ienzo said. “If you need to gain weight, that’s a good way to do it.”

“I won’t say no.”

“I know you won’t. I do enjoy it.” He stood to Demyx’s left, so he has trouble reading Ienzo’s expression. He swore he heard some artificiality in it. 

“Can you make macarons? The last time you did I swear I met god.”

“To be fair. We’d just smoked marijuana. That does affect taste. ...And any supposed divine revelation.”

“Even so.”

“That was a good night. We should do it again when you’re well.”

A blush crept into his cheeks. “Yes.” They hadn’t had sex in nearly two weeks; maybe if he wasn’t exhausted when they got home Ienzo might want to. 

“Do you feel up to taking the long way home?”

“I think so. I’m not that tired yet.” The early morning air was fresh and cool, and he drank it in gratefully. Even with open windows, the air inside could only feel so clean. “I’ve missed being outside.”

“You’ve dealt with all this beautifully.”

“No point being weak and also miserable.”

“I suppose.”

Demyx looked back towards him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why is it you ask?”

“I wanted to make sure.”

He sighed. “Admittedly, it did dredge up some negative memories,” he said. “You and I… have a complicated history of collapsing on one another.”

“We have the combined constitution of a wet tissue.”

He chuckled. “As well as luck that is both terrible and great.” A pause. Demyx let him take his time. “I know it’s not my fault, but I do feel… guilty. If this is a targeted attack, who knows what else might happen should someone with a grudge seek revenge?”

“I really hope it isn’t that.”

“I do too--” Ienzo’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“I swear I saw someone--maybe I’m paranoid.”

“Might be a Heartless.” 

“Are you strong enough to fight one?”

“Maybe a Shadow--probably not much more. Maybe we should turn back towards where there are more claymores.” A seed of dread started to grow in his stomach. 

“Yes. I agree.”

They walked back along the blue stone that bordered the edge of town. Ienzo kept looking over his shoulder; Demyx couldn’t help but do the same. They heard rock scrabbling. “We’re definitely being followed by something,” Demyx said, as softly as he could.

“What should we do?”

“Try and act natural until we get somewhere safer.”

Ienzo squeezed his hand more tightly than he normally did. “I’ve got a pocket knife. But I don’t think that will be much use. And my magic is still very limited.”

“Well, we’ll see. Might want to dust off that strategizing part of your brain.”

There was a quiet thud behind them. Demyx turned, tense, ready to draw the Keyblade.

The figure wore a cloak. Not an Organization cloak, a regular, run-of-the-mill cloak. It was brown.

But Demyx, after years of recon, didn’t need to see a person’s face to recognize them. The height, shoulders, and general bearing were enough. He exhaled and put a hand on his hip. “What are you doing here?”

The figure, craving anonymity, said nothing.

Ienzo squinted, confused.

“You trying to finish the job, or what?” Demyx asked. 

The figure flicked back their hood and scowled. 

“For the record, poisoning a healer isn’t the best way to go. We tend to be pretty resilient. You should’ve just stabbed me.” 

The woman’s face was flushed red with anger. “You weren’t supposed to survive.”

“Yeah, that’s how assassination works.”

Demyx turned back to Ienzo. He was frozen; he looked like he’d been struck. Demyx wondered briefly if he’d been hit by a Stop spell, but he was still blinking, and his hands were shaking. More obvious than anything, though, was the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Little Ienzo,” she said coolly. “Though--not so small now, are you?”

Demyx tried to think. “Who--” he began, but the woman cut him off.

“Go on, tell him,” she said. 

He shuddered, then said, “One of the test subjects. One of the victims. She and her sister.”

“But she’s human,” Demyx said. The conversation he’d had with her previously clicked. “Or--”

“Not all of the people who were exploited fell to darkness. In the--the early days.” He steeled himself. “Regardless of how you feel. Take out your anger on me, not on those around me.”

“I think you were the most disturbing one,” the woman continued. “Of all the scientists. What did they do to you, to get you to act the way they did? And why are you reopening old wounds?”

“I want to help people heal from what I did. The darkness hurt me too.”

She took a step forward. Demyx tried to shove Ienzo behind him instinctively. “Not everybody wants to forgive and forget,” she said. 

“More people do than don’t,” Demyx cut in. “And how is trying to kill us solving anything?”

To his surprise, he felt Ienzo taking shelter behind him; he was confused for just a second before he felt Ienzo pressing the gummiphone into his back. 

The woman scowled. “He’s got you under his spell too, I see.”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if you want to manipulate me, you’re going to have to be a lot more clever than that.”

Ienzo pressed his palm once again against Demyx’s back. The message was clear;  _ stall. _

“What did you think any of this would achieve?” Demyx asked. His heart was hammering, but he tried to maintain a sculpted look of boredom. “So you kill me. What would your next move have been? Infiltrating the castle? Trying to off us one by one? And then what? Regardless, you’d get caught. We work with the committee. They’d notice if we were gone.”

She seemed thrown by this. Behind the bravado, he noticed something like pain.

He sighed. “Look. I get it. I do. I know how it feels to be violated, and then to be so angry, so desperate, so  _ hurt _ you’ll do anything to make it better. But you don’t have to do it this way. If you want, we can… I can help you.”

She clenched her fists. “You’d help the person who tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Honor code, right?” he held up his hand, and then wondered if this was overkill.

For a moment she said and did nothing, her expression blank. Her hands opened, relaxed. He breathed a small sigh of relief. Someone would be here soon.

With a flash, almost faster than he could really perceive, he saw the knife, but before he could duck or draw the Keyblade Ienzo threw him down and caught the knife right against his shoulder. In the space of about two seconds, Demyx smashed the hilt of the Keyblade against her temple, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious. He turned back to Ienzo. “Why the  _ fuck _ would you do that?” Demyx hissed. “Lay down.”

He was breathing heavily, a fine film of sweat all along his face. “Feels mostly like she hit bone,” Ienzo said through his teeth. 

“That’s for me to decide.” He ripped off his sweatshirt and packed it around the wound. 

“Don’t do magic. Help is coming.”

“Let me at least check to see if it hit an artery.” The bleeding wasn’t visibly too much, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It could all be internal.

“You’ll hurt yourself--”

“Shut up. You just got fucking stabbed.” He tried to find the energy for a spell. It didn’t seem to want to come. He pulled hard, pulled deep within himself, and immediately felt his body start to protest. He gagged.

“Demyx--”

“No. I’ve got this.”

“Demyx, I’m fine. Really.”

He applied pressure to Ienzo’s wound. He texted Aerith, in case she wasn’t already on the way. “You still with me?”

“I don’t even feel dizzy.”

“Don’t lie.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “If you die I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I’m not going to die.” The way he was breathing seemed to betray that. “I’m not  _ finished _ with you yet.” His eyes rolled a little bit.

“Ienzo.”

“Still here.”

“Don’t shut your eyes.” He had to try again. Demyx pulled harder, tried to find the magic. Blackness swam over him for a minute. 

He heard their footsteps before things could get bleaker. He wasn’t sure if it was from trying to use power, or from panic, but things seemed off, his ears ringing. Aerith crouched to heal the wound, Leon crouched to accost the woman. A small, dusty smelling hand patted his cheek. “Come on, kiddo,” said the voice. Yuffie’s face barely slid into focus. 

“I’m five years older than you,” he mumbled, and fainted.

He came to about fifteen seconds later when she tipped an ether into his mouth. He drank it all down, flinching at the oily taste. He turned to Ienzo and Aerith--he was pale, his eyes closed--and a strangled sound caught in his throat.

“He’s alive,” Aerith assured him quickly. “He’s alive. He’s asleep. He’s going to be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” he said to the ground. “Fucking--”

“What a day, huh,” Yuffie said dryly.

* * *

“I do believe Aerith’s instructions were that  _ both _ of us were to rest. I also believe I don’t need any more pillows. Nor do I need them fluffed.”

Demyx took a step back. Other than being a little pale, Ienzo seemed completely back to himself. 

“You’re doing it again,” he said drolly, and took another drink of the blood replacement potion. 

“Doing what?”

“Taking care of me instead of yourself. Come to bed. Lie with me.”

Demyx did so. 

Ienzo slid his shirt down his shoulder. “See? I don’t even have a scar. So before you exert yourself wittering over me--”

“You took a fucking knife for me.”

He put a finger over his lips. “Which was a calculated risk I knew probably wouldn’t kill me. In the moment, I admit, I was more concerned about your wellbeing than mine--”

“ _ Probably? _ ”

“Demyx. Breathe.”

He tried to listen. 

“I’ve seen too many people die this way.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” Ienzo pulled him close. 

He cried for a long time. 

“I know you want to protect me,” Ienzo continued. “I think it would be easier, and more productive, if we agreed to protect each other instead. Can you agree to that?” He brushed a tear from Demyx’s eye. 

“Yes.”


	17. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seeing his project to fruition, Ienzo tries to figure out what to do next.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW (but only at the very end).

_ Excerpt from a diary _

I have been… rather listless, as of late. Letting go of that project--seeing it to fruition--was an incredible exercise in catharsis, but now that it is complete, and gone, I find I struggle to fill my days with meaningful work.

I’ve taken, again, to studying, and while it is a pleasure to finally explore subjects pertaining to my own interests, I realize I observe them with a level of indifference, and not that incredible hunger for knowledge I knew so keenly as a Nobody. 

Who am I, if not a reader, a researcher? Am I suffering from depression, or exhaustion? Truly I do not feel either; my emotional state is the best it’s been since I’ve been human. I am--hesitantly-- _ happy. _

I hope this spell, whatever it is, passes.

* * *

“I brought you some lunch. I figured you could use the distraction.”

Ienzo looked up from his textbook and saw Demyx standing there, offering him a bento box with a small smile. “Thank you.”

They sat and ate on the floor of the library, sushi and tempura. It was decent enough, but lacked something. Not soy sauce; the vendor had been generous with that. But  _ something. _

If he thought about it too much, it’d disgust him and he wouldn’t want to finish, so he tried to push the thoughts away. Ienzo noticed, instead, the stain on the left knee of Demyx’s jeans--the distinctive brownish-red of dried blood. “Did you get hurt?”

He furrowed his brows. “What?” then, looking down, “Oh, it’s not my blood.”

Ienzo found the casualness of the way he said this a little off-putting. For some reason he’d always assumed Demyx was squeamish; his training was proving the exact opposite. He hadn’t really thought about how often people got hurt at Radiant Garden, but it did seem to be an awful lot. “Are they… alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course. You think I would be chilling here if they weren’t?” He smiled. “Kid took a bad tumble down the stairs leading to the marketplace. That’s all.”

“You have a stronger stomach than I do,” Ienzo remarked. 

Demyx frowned. “You get used to it. Got to. The human body is… gross.”

Ienzo laughed a little. 

“You okay? You seem out of it.”

Ienzo hesitated, and then realized the longer he hesitated the more Demyx became concerned. “Truthfully? I’ve been a bit disappointed with my studies lately. I no longer feel such… intense academic drive. And to have that part of me weaken or sleep… well, it’s like how you felt without Arpeggio.”

Demyx groaned. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I’m hoping it’s exhaustion or some kind of burnout.”

He nodded. “I’m sure that’s all it is. Why don’t you take a few days off?”

Ienzo frowned. “What will I do if I don’t study?”

“Go for a long walk. Hang out with someone. Pick up a hobby. Let your brain  _ rest _ . It’s probably a… a study block.”

He looked down at his rice. “I certainly hope so. I admit. After finishing that grand project of mine… life does feel a bit empty.”

Demyx sighed. “I know what you mean. I’ve burnt out a couple of times. It’s… not fun. It’s really easy to spiral.”

“I agree. I do so detest it. Spiraling used to feel progressive, oddly enough, when I was a Nobody. My thoughts could just race and race and eventually I’d get something out of it, some clarity. But now that I’m human…” He sighed. “All it does is give me anxiety.”

Demyx lowered his empty lunch box. “It’s still pretty bad, huh?”

“...Quite.” Admitting it made him feel a modicum of shame. “I think you may be right, that it’s more biochemical than related to past events.”

Demyx tapped his fingers against his knee for a moment. “Well, the good news about that is that it can be fixed. Do you think this is what’s making you not enjoy what you used to like?”

“It’s possible.” He clacked together the chopsticks but no longer had much of an appetite. “Truthfully I do not know.”

“It’s okay to not know things,” Demyx said simply.

Ienzo blinked. The simplicity of the phrase seemed to be undoing something in him. 

Noticing this shift, Demyx took one of his hands. “I know you like being everyone’s go-to guy. But you’re putting  _ so much _ pressure on yourself to get better, to be better, to understand literally everything you feel and why. And the fact that you’re trying to do that while also having literally no context for emotion is only making it harder. You’ve gotta let it be.”

“Yes… that is… absolutely correct.”

“So you’ll try it?”

He exhaled. He felt like he’d set down something heavy. “I will.”

Demyx kissed him once. “I can get a medicine for you to try. Is that something you’d want to explore?”

“I do not want to do it. But I know I need to.”

“There’s no shame in it. You’d take aspirin for a headache, right? Why suffer if you don’t have to?”

“Why indeed.” He forced himself to eat another few pieces of sashimi. 

Demyx bit his lip, looking sheepish now. “Well that got deep for no reason,” he said. “Want to come to town with me? Get out of here for a little while?”

“I suppose. We do need to return these boxes.” Ienzo looked back at the books he was reading. He parked his place carefully, shut them, and set them aside. He’d done this same exact thing a million times.

It was time to take a break. He needed to see who he could be  _ now _ instead of forcing himself to be who he was  _ then. _

The day was on the cooler side, and carried the fresh smell of oncoming rain. He wore one of Demyx’s sweaters, which was a little baggy on him, but it was comforting to have something that smelled like him. They returned the bento boxes to the sushi vendor and wandered through the marketplace. 

Demyx seemed to be so comfortable with this place now. They seemed to keep running into people he knew, people who were only blank faces to Ienzo. There were so many questions. How were their partners/spouses/kids? Was the wound/bone/condition feeling better? And wasn’t the weather lovely?

Ienzo didn’t speak much, didn’t know how to get in a word edgewise. This was not exactly his area of expertise. He hung back a little, clung to Demyx’s hand. In a moment, a flash, he felt like a child, like he was following Even whenever Even would bring him along on errands. “You cannot stay holed up in here all day,” Even would say. “Come. Come socialize. You need it.”

How much of this was his autism, and how much of it was his anxiety? And which of the two was twisting his stomach in knots?

They emerged into a quieter part of town. He exhaled sharply and realized he’d been holding his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Demyx asked.

“I’m not used to this,” he said, and noted with a degree of mollification that his speaking voice was relatively unstable. “Talking to people.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “That’s weird. Normally I can’t get you to shut up.”

“Because I’m comfortable with you. But these people… before it merely felt strange, now all of a sudden it feels… daunting.”

“I know what you mean. That’s exactly how I felt when--”

“I don’t think you do,” he said, with more vitriol than he intended. “It’s not shyness, it’s not awkwardness. I feel as though I’m being physically restrained. And my words fail me.” He breath felt slick, acidic. 

Demyx put his hands on his shoulders, rubbing gently as though to warm him up. “Take a deep breath.”

He tried to. After a moment, he stuffed the panic back into its box, blinked the tears out of his eyes. “Alright,” he said. “I’m alright now.”

Demyx hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I know you’re different than me. That you don’t think the same way.”

“Truthfully it’s come into play more as a human. This facet of my identity.” 

“Yeah. I get that.”

“I should like to get that medication. If it’s all the same.”

“You know it’s for the anxiety, not the--”

“Yes, I know. The two are very closely married.” He tried to smile. “I should like to separate them.”

He nodded. “That I can do.”

* * *

Ienzo hadn’t been to this part of Merlin’s house. Then again, he didn’t exactly come here much in general. Cid was working diligently at the computer, coding quickly and surely, but before Ienzo could examine it in more detail Demyx steered him towards a small back room. There was a cot here, a sink, and a large apothecary cabinet. The counter was littered with all sorts of instruments--mortar and pestle, tweezers, vices, and other things he had no name for. 

Demyx rummaged in one of the drawers. Ienzo tried to read the writing on it, but it was horrible. He squinted.

“Yeah, Aerith’s writing is terrible,” Demyx said. “It took me longer to learn how to read it than anything else.”

Despite himself, Ienzo grinned. “You two must be growing closer,” he said.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “She’s actually really chill. But she works so hard, holy shit. Between the shop and all this? I’m not sure if she sleeps.” He pulled out a small wax paper packet, which was bulky with tablets. “Here we go.”

“Can you explain it to me?”

“I’ll try.” He took one of the tablets out of the bag. It was clear, with a greenish paste inside. “It’s not actually the herb mixture that matters, at least in this case. It’s like… well, we actually use spells in the medicine, but it’s easier and less tiring to bind a spell to some plants than a whole human body. What it does is… it kind of reduces the amount of adrenaline you can metabolize. So you don’t get that icky panic feeling. On top of keeping the neurotransmitters where they belong.”

Ienzo had to admit that hearing Demyx speak so technically was kind of a turn-on. “You actually do know what you’re doing,” he teased. 

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Never thought there’d be a day I’d be explaining something to you.” He offered Ienzo the tablet.

“Are there any… adverse effects?”

“Shouldn’t be. It’s not like conventional medicine in that sense. Magic, not chemicals.”

Ienzo looked down at it. So small. Would it really help as much as Demyx said? He put it on his tongue and swallowed it down with some offered water.

“You might not notice a difference for a few days,” Demyx said. “Just try to keep it consistent.”

“That much I can do.”

* * *

And he did.

He took one pill every day with his morning tea. He didn’t feel much of a change for nearly a week. These empty days he tried to fill his time. He helped Ansem debug a few applications. They were nothing really of interest to anyone other than the apprentices, as a way to sort data, track the weather, and other utilitarian things that had been scant so far. 

He’d seen the gummiphone as a tool, not much else. And so did they. But then Ienzo thought of Kingstagram, of the simple joy that their friends were getting from it. He pulled one of the laptops from the system and sat coding as Ansem created his own programs. This was mostly to entertain himself, to keep his hands busy. 

Ansem looked over at Ienzo’s screen. He gave a small smile. “What on earth are you making?”

“I’m teaching a program to play card games,” he said simply. 

“Sounds delightful.”

“It’s keeping me occupied. There is no reason that the gummiphones can’t also have an application or two for fun.”

Ansem chuckled. “I believe I agree.”

He taught an AI a few simple games, tweaked the models a bit. Creating such for the fun of it rather than a desperate, scientific need felt… strange, but not unpleasant. Once he was able to get it to competently and seamlessly get through a few different difficulty levels, he downloaded it to the phone and let it run. He quality tested it himself. There were some glitches, but it worked fairly well. 

The thought of cards, and card games, got him thinking, inevitably, about Castle Oblivion. He tried to divert his mind from the horrific memories within and instead reminded himself that it had been remade into a much more positive place, a place where Aqua, Terra, and Ven lived relatively peacefully.

Aqua, a gifted mage.

Demyx had told him to pick up some hobbies.

He wondered.

* * *

“Do you think it’s healthy for me to learn magic again?” It was Aerith Ienzo asked, not Demyx or Even. He was fairly certain the two would not be pleased.

Aerith shrugged. Demyx was right; even in their brief conversation she barely seemed to stop moving, mixing this with that, pipetting tinctures into bottles. “You’re more or less healthy. It’s been months since you last used your will. If you start slow and steady, you should be okay.”

“That’s all?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you want bad news?”

“No, I--” He shook his head. “I am not so used to things going well.”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a checkup once you start training. Make sure you eat well and get plenty of sleep and fluids. The usual.”

“That is good news. I suppose I should thank you.”

“Always glad to be of help.”

* * *

Aqua cheerfully agreed to his proposition; she’d been going stir crazy, she said. It’d be good to come see everyone.

Demyx, on the other hand, was just as concerned as Ienzo predicted. He’d told him as gently as possible, peppered in Aerith’s reassurances he’d be alright. 

“I know it’s, like, illogical, or whatever, for me to worry,” he said. He pulled his knees onto the couch. The firelight softened his features a little. “But I am. Worried.”

“I will take it exceedingly slowly.”

“I know. But the last time you used powers--”

“I will not be using power in the traditional sense. Just magic. Like you do every day.”

He bit his lip. “I guess it’s not my decision. If you want this, do it. But I want to be there. In case.”

“I understand. To be fair, you did tell me to pick up a hobby.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“I used to enjoy magic immensely. It should be nice to have that back.”

Demyx leaned back a little. There were still concerned wrinkles around his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Not that.”

He thought about it. Truthfully he’d had more energy lately, but he’d attributed it to getting in a bit more walking. “You know, I believe I do.”

“Not so anxious?”

Ienzo, again, reflected. “Not noticeably. I’ve been distracting myself. Though such anxious tangles of thought are easier to break apart than they once were.”

Demyx smiled. “So it’s working.”

“It may just be.”

He kissed Ienzo, and he returned the gesture. For once the idea of not knowing what would be next--in general, clearly now something else was happening entirely--was not nearly so bothersome. He would figure it out, he thought, even as it became increasingly more difficult to think. He needed time, time he had now. He felt Demyx pull him closer.

"Do you want to?" Demyx asked him.

"Yes," he whispered. 

Demyx kissed him deeply, his tongue brushing so lightly against Ienzo's before he trailed along his cheek and throat. 

"Do you think we could--" His voice was full of breath. "Do this on the bed? Or maybe the floor? There's not a whole lot of room--" It was an old couch, a narrow one.

He sighed. "You're right." He kissed him again, but before Ienzo could respond as much as he'd like Demyx pulled away. "Planning on getting acrobatic with it?"

"I haven't decided yet." Ienzo's mind was curiously blank. 

Demyx took a quick breath. "I'll get the--"

"Go."

Ienzo heard him fumbling in the drawer for the lube. He stroked the velour of the couch, warmth and anticipation making his skin tingle.

Demyx came back with the bottle and a pillow. "For you."

"Always looking out for my comfort." Ienzo set it on the floor, near the warmth of the fire, and lay down. He let his legs fall open slightly. He had no idea how to be sexy or seductive. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, actually.

"Well, to be fair." Demyx knelt next to him and kissed him once. "My first time was against a tree. You don't forget a pain like that." He straddled Ienzo gently and slid off his sweater. Ienzo helped Demyx out of his shirt as well, tracing scars gently. He could just barely see the reaction before he was being kissed, and working off their clothing. He was almost dizzy with arousal, the pressure between his legs growing almost unbearable. 

Ienzo could feel the itchiness of the rug against his back. "Really? A tree?" Was all he could manage to say. 

"I had the scratches for weeks." 

Ienzo laughed. "Mine sounds almost boring in comparison."

"Oh, I don't know. It wasn't boring to me." Ienzo could feel him, the hardness of him, right up against his own erection, and he pressed against it a little harder. Demyx gasped. "What do you want?"

"I want…" His face was burning. "You know what I want." Maybe someday he’d be able to talk more freely about these sorts of things, but he wasn’t quite there.

Demyx's hands slipped down his sides, easing off Ienzo's underwear without touching him directly, which was almost worse. Ienzo tried to touch him, his dick, only for Demyx to take his hand and lace his fingers through it. "You in a hurry?"

He squirmed a little. "I’m afraid I'm not very patient."

"Well. Don't want you to suffer."

He felt Demyx's hand slide down, brushing ever so lightly against the tip of his dick, and he moaned. Ienzo tried to touch him as well, and felt the warmth and smoothness. Demyx's breath caught, and he bucked against Ienzo's hand. He grasped for the lube.

"So much for patience," Ienzo mumbled. He felt himself getting pulled forward, a finger sliding into him. A chill shot down his spine. He tried to kiss Demyx, his throat, and heard a soft and indiscernible noise. Another finger slid into him. He thought he could feel it already, that bright and tempting pleasure. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," Ienzo said. "Can we--" He took the lube into his hands, and spread some against Demyx's dick. Demyx exhaled. 

"Oh god. Yes." Almost abruptly, he pulled Ienzo closer and eased the tip inside of him. The pressure of it was almost sweet. Bit by bit, he pressed inside of Ienzo, and after a moment Ienzo urged him to move. He reached up to kiss Demyx and laced his hands through his hair.

He always loved the way this felt, the sense of connection, the way he felt almost at home in the body that had all been taken from him.

"Wait," Ienzo whispered.

Demyx stopped moving within him. "Did you… did you want to stop?"

He could feel the feverish sweat along his body. "No," Ienzo kissed him. "No, I wanted to--" His words failed him. "Try something."

Demyx exhaled. "Anything." 

He kissed him again, and felt Demyx buck up against him. The thought almost slipped from his mind. "Lay down," he suggested.

Demyx understood. They pulled apart gently. Ienzo gave him the pillow. The room, despite how close they were to the fire, was cool, and felt good against his feverish skin. "What are you going to do?" Demyx asked breathlessly. 

"I wanted to see what it would be like if we… changed." This moment wasn't quite as spontaneous as he would have hoped. 

"Oh. Yeah, yeah." He blinked quickly. "Keeping me on my toes."

Ienzo straddled him. Demyx helped him bring them back together. He heard himself gasp out loud and pressed against him. 

Demyx thrusted into him. Ienzo wasn't quite in the mood for gentleness, and it seemed like Demyx wasn't either. Ienzo pulled him a little closer, grasping at one of his hands. His skin nearly seemed to burn, as though he couldn't possibly contain all the feeling. It wasn't exactly easy. This position was more comfortable, and he could feel Demyx so acutely.

The tension was growing stronger, blurring and blunting his thoughts. He heard Demyx moan and opened his eyes. 

"I'm so close," he whispered.

Ienzo could feel the difference in the way they moved together. A little quicker, more urgent. Demyx gripped at his thighs. He shuddered, and Ienzo felt the warmth inside of him. Demyx reached down into the tangle of their bodies and started to stroke him.

He found himself caught in the firelight, pleasure threatening to tip over, until finally he gave in. The shock of endorphins was almost too much. Ienzo pulled away, gently, and lay down against Demyx. He heard the beat of his heart, insistent and vital, and a sudden wave of vulnerability made his eyes water. “Your heart’s racing,” he said. 

“I’m still recovering,” Demyx admitted. His voice was breathy and just a little hoarse. “That was… something.”

“I agree.” He was starting to feel chilled now, and clung to him a bit more tightly. Demyx traced small patterns along Ienzo’s back, and a shiver of something like overstimulation made his breath catch. “I used to think this was all so simple, when I used to read about it. But every time I think I truly understand, I don’t.”

“Does that bother you?”

Ienzo took a deep breath. The room smelled like woodsmoke, soft and almost nostalgic. “You know, I don’t think it does.” He lifted his head and kissed Demyx once. “Shall we go to bed? I’m quite cold now.”

Not every moment was full of grand revelations. Sometimes things remained slow, quiet. Ienzo liked this, but liked even more how it felt to spend the night together. He slept deeply, and woke with hope for the future.


	18. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Demyx and Ienzo have been together a year, they're struggling to come to terms with permanence.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

Demyx thought that maybe the more time passed, the more he would feel happy, the clearer things would become. He’d drafted a plan to get his shit together, one that seemed simple:

  1. Get mentally stable
  2. Get better at healing
  3. Be happy



But he lacked Ienzo’s attention to detail, or the ability to define substeps. He didn’t know what  _ happiness _ really was; there were days of small pops of joy--a composition that was almost perfect, a new technique mastered, hours he and Ienzo could find to spend together. But at the same time, there were also bits of pain, accidentals that didn’t belong. Mostly, though, Demyx didn’t feel much of anything.

He wanted that happy ending, for days to be easy to get through. And it  _ was _ easier than it used to be, less numb. But behind him the memories ached, and in front of him was the anxious fear of failure. Nearly a year later, he was helping patients on his own for all but the worst things, yet he still seemed to slip, to miss something silly. The devil really was in the details. These mistakes could be deadly, he knew. And he was afraid. Not just of the mistakes, but of the future. 

Future.

Was this really what he was meant to do? Was it more fulfilling than stressful? Was he fulfilled? As he tried to move forward, these bigger picture questions started to become something of a nuisance. What happened to living in the moment?

Demyx couldn’t live like that any more. 

“It’s a sign of maturity,” Ienzo said, with a small smile. “You lived for so long without a plan, trying to survive. Wanting a plan--or at least something to work towards--shows that you’re recovering. It’s good to have roots.”

“I know. I know that.” He sighed. It was getting to be fall again, the days losing their warmth and light. “Another day, another existential crisis, you know?”

Ienzo smiled. “We’re at that age, you know.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yes. Once the mind actually  _ develops _ the ability for long-term consequential planning, it’s almost irresistible. And almost overwhelming.” He bit his lip. “I’m right there with you. I’ve no idea what’s to come next. And I’ve no idea what I want from life.”

“I want to be happy.”

He furrowed his brow. “Well… of course.”

“Don’t you want that?”

Ienzo thought about this. “I’m… not quite sure what it is,” he admitted. “Is anyone ever satisfied with life?”

Demyx flinched. “I hope so.”

He nodded. “I guess there are… shades of happiness,” he said after a moment. “I enjoy  _ you _ , I enjoy being with you, but that doesn’t mean every day is full of sunshine and roses. Nor should it be. You’d be bored.”

“Really?”

Ienzo shrugged. “You know how little I know of these things.” He squeezed Demyx’s hand. “It would help to… not worry so much about finding happiness. Otherwise it will never come.” He had a point. They kept walking back home. A faint breeze brought up the fresh, cool air. “...April already,” he mumbled. 

“What day was it when I wound up here?”

Ienzo squinted. “I’m not certain of the exact day. But it was roughly this time last year.”

Which meant, Demyx realized, that about three weeks after  _ that _ was when they’d gotten together. “...Huh,” he said to himself.

“Feels like longer, doesn’t it?” he asked. 

“...Yeah.” He felt a blush heat his face. “You know…”

Ienzo waited for him to finish the sentence. “What?”

“That means it’s been about a year since…”

He understood. Demyx saw him turn vaguely pink. “I… that’s right, isn’t it.” He smiled to himself. “Sometimes it feels like we just… began.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Well. We haven’t tired of one another, have we?”

“Not even close.”

“Then that’s that,” he said simply. “If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.”

Demyx wondered if he were imagining things, or if Ienzo was a little shaken.

“I’ve a couple of things to finish up in the lab,” he said. “I’ll see you at home?” He kissed Demyx once and left without waiting for the response.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful--he healed a sprained wrist and tended to a few cases of strep throat. He got home later than he expected, but Ienzo still wasn’t home. No big deal, right? He often got caught late in his work, or lost track of time.

Yet, Demyx felt… anxious. Had that simple chat about their time together changed his mind? Ienzo had always been so invested in progress--wasn’t it his idea to move in together? He didn’t regret that, did he?

“You’re being paranoid,” he muttered to himself. He chopped some potatoes for roasting, though admittedly he had next to no appetite. He tried to pull his mind away from the spiral-- _ oh god, was I being too clingy, is he going to leave me? Have I been missing hints?-- _ but it was like a riptide. He ended up slicing into his thumb by accident and watched the blood run down his palm longer than he should have.

He asked Ienzo if he should keep a plate out for him, and got no response. He had to be just busy, away from the phone. Of course Demyx trusted him. If he had reservations, Ienzo knew he could talk about them. Right?

Demyx stared at the empty text box on his phone, thinking entirely too hard and doing nothing but making himself sick. He choked down dinner and sat for a long time, trying to breathe.

It grew dark, became late, but he didn’t feel tired. He lit a fire in the hearth, enough to break the chill of the room. “You’re so fucking dumb,” he mumbled to himself. This was all in his head. He needed the confirmation, to know if everything was okay. Or was needing that confirmation being too… needy? Demyx curled tightly against the couch, trying to stem frustrated tears. 

After too long, the lock clicked softly. Ienzo looked back at him, startled. “What are you doing still awake? It’s very late. Don’t you work tomorrow?”

“I can’t sleep.”

He slid off his lab coat and hung it on the hook. “Why ever not?”

Demyx could feel his heart racing. “Do you regret getting with me?”

He seemed frozen for a moment. “What on earth are you talking about?”

His face felt, if anything, even hotter. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

Ienzo sat next to him. “...You’ll have to forgive me,” he said softly. “I realize I… probably did not react naturally earlier. I hadn’t realized… I lost track of time.”

Demyx took a shaky breath.

“I needed a while to process what it all meant to me. I was sitting there… with the guise of my work… wondering… well, why ever would you have wanted to spend so much time with me. If you might want… to move on.” He clutched the cushions, his hair obscuring his face. “Why should you remain with me indefinitely?”

The air hurt his lungs. “Do you want me to go?”

Ienzo was silent for several moments. Demyx heard him breathing. “No,” he admitted. “But why… why do you want to stay?” He looked up. Demyx saw tears in his eyes. He realized, with a flash, that Ienzo had been just as freaked out about that exchange as he had. 

“Because I love you,” he said, as though it were obvious. 

“You could have someone so much better than me.”

Demyx rested his hands on his shoulders. “There  _ is _ no one else,” he said. “There can never  _ be _ anyone else. I only want you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

Ienzo shuddered. “I’m just holding you back.”

“That is such horseshit.”

He flinched.

“You helped me realize there could be so much more to this life than I thought. That I could  _ be _ so much more than I thought. This whole time I was thinking… what the hell do you see in  _ me _ ?”

He laughed, crying freely. “We’re so unused to things going well,” he said thickly. “How  _ quickly _ we think ourselves into a corner.”

He laughed too, feeling the same onslaught of weepiness.

“I want to be with you. Right now, that is the only thing I know with any certainty.”

“Then that’s that.”

“That’s that.” 

Demyx pulled him close. The relief was almost paralyzing, but yet this proved they still had their own issues they needed to work on; and love couldn’t fix it all.

“...April 23rd,” Ienzo said.

“...What?”

“I was looking through my reports and diaries from that time. The day we got together was April 23rd.”

“Let’s do something,” he said. “Then, I mean.”

“I think we should. At least for closure’s sake.” Ienzo nodded. 

“Not to mention, talk about this more, because, like… yowza.”

“...Agreed.”

* * *

The weather grew colder, unexpectedly so for this early in the fall; with it came a rash of sicknesses that left him working long hours, and in a constant shade of exhaustion. Demyx didn't know what to do for Ienzo concerning their anniversary; the day drew nearer and he was still empty-handed, on the verge of panic. Something so simple as a  _ gift _ couldn't encapsulate what he felt. 

If their combined paranoia meant anything, they still had a lot to learn. The fresh ecstasy of the relationship was fading, and they had to grow into it.

"This is something like codependence," Ienzo admitted, swirling a tea bag around his mug. 

"You think so?"

He sighed, twisting a strand of hair around his hand. "Well--it says a lot, that the paranoia nearly unraveled a year of trust. If I were to lose you--" He cut himself off.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Ienzo shook his head. "I know this. I… forgive me, it's difficult to verbalize these thoughts." He dropped his eyes. Demyx took his hand. "I've only so far experienced good things from the vulnerability you helped me find. To realize there could be pain from it was a nasty shock, and made me doubt myself. And all the true bonds I had before this only ended in such pain. In short, I'm paranoid about losing you because I want to spare myself that pain. We can't… afford to weave so much of our identities into our relationship."

Demyx furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you think we have?"

"Oh, Demyx. I don't know." He rested his face in his hands for a moment. 

" _ I _ don't think so. We don't live joined at the hip. Or make decisions based just on what the other person wants."

"...That's true." He sighed heavily. "I suppose… I'm not used to defining myself in the context of others. In a way…" Something had shifted in his eyes, something vulnerable. "I've been so… lonesome, and self-sufficient to a fault. It's not just you I have to let into my heart."

"Yeah. I… know what you mean." He took a deep breath. "I used to push people away. I guess because I figured I'd lose them. And for the longest time, I was right. I  _ did _ lose people."

"Self-fulfilling prophecy." Ienzo looked down. "I don't want to let it destroy us."

"Then let's not let it."

"That simply?"

"Why not?"

He smiled. "I wish I could see things the way you do. It seems simpler."

Demyx laughed. "Less wordy, maybe."

* * *

The actual morning of, it stormed. Wind wailed against the windows, and woke them both.

"I do hope you hadn't had any plans which involved going outside," Ienzo mumbled. 

"I  _ wanted _ to take you out," Demyx said. "But fuck me, I guess, for wanting to do something nice."

"Is that not how it always goes?" he asked sleepily. "There are, after all, plenty of things to be done here… though maybe when I'm not half asleep." He settled back down, pulling Demyx close.

"... Guess I should say it."

"What?"

"Happy one year."

"Oh, that's today?"

Demyx rolled his eyes. "You're infuriating."

"Yet you love me for it."

The day was spent quietly. They didn't leave the room much. Demyx tried his hand at making dinner for them, though it had to be mostly salvaged by Ienzo. "Guess I should stick to the basics," he muttered.

"Well, the effort is appreciated."

After this disaster, they sat by the fire in the growing chill. Demyx played Arpeggio, letting the song go where it wanted to take him; Ienzo had a book in his lap, but he watched Demyx's hands work the frets. "How do you decide what to play?"

"It's not always conscious," he admitted. "Like… I don't know. I take it where it wants to take me. Easier to play how I feel than to make something up from scratch."

"I thought that was the case. There was always a presence to your music. Something real. I'm beginning to tell the difference."

"... I write about you, sometimes."

"Do you? Am I your muse?" He stretched, a bit languid.

"Like I said. Sometimes." He switched chords, downsliding into soft, whimsical eighth notes. "This reminds me of when I can tell you're thinking hard. Or when you're trying to figure things out." 

Ienzo shut his eyes, listening quietly. "I don't think I could ever appreciate your music enough."

"Ah, you flatter me too much."

"But it is so genuine… you know how to make me feel, with your music, and it takes a lot for art to do that."

"You have only yourself to thank."

He shook his head. "This was all you."

The song ended. Demyx let Arpeggio fade and turned to face Ienzo. He touched his face. 

"...Perhaps," Ienzo said softly, "you might want to go to bed with me?"

He took a quick breath. "That sounds like a plan."

This was familiar now, easier than it used to be. Ienzo took his hand and led him over to the bed. He reached up and began to undo the buttons at Demyx's throat. Demyx tried to kiss him, only to catch hair and cheek, his clothing falling into a shivering pile on the floor. A hot stab of anticipation made the blood rush to his face. He reached to help Ienzo out of his pants. This dealt with, they faced each other. Demyx could hear his breath, already quicker than normal, and a flush made him shiver.

"I'll never get used to you," Ienzo said, and kissed him. 

He felt himself getting pulled closer, and then gently eased onto the mattress. Ienzo straddled him. The warmth of him was overwhelming, and Demyx felt the reaction, hardening more. Ienzo kissed him  _ too _ gently, his tongue catching Demyx's bottom lip. He ran his hands along Ienzo's back, the soft muscle, and heard him gasp a little in response. Ienzo pressed a bit more of his weight into him, his dick brushing lightly against Demyx's, and it was all just a little too much; Demyx reached down between their bodies to touch him and felt Ienzo begin to do the same.

His heart was racing, and for a moment he almost lost himself in the touch, the softness of Ienzo's mouth on his; after too long and not long enough he pulled away from Demyx. "Is this what you want?" he asked. "Do you want to go farther?"

He struggled to take a breath. "Yeah."

Ienzo nodded. "Okay." He reached over into the bedside table for the lube. Demyx kissed his throat, his chest, anything in sight; Ienzo laughed a little. "Give me a moment. You  _ are _ needy." He shut his eyes tightly for a moment. 

“Processing?”

“Yes.” He rested his forehead against Demyx’s for a moment. “Okay. Could you… could you help me?”

“...Sure.” He shifted back a little, against the headboard, and took some of the lube onto his hand, gently sliding a finger into him. “Did you ever think this would happen to you?” Demyx asked him.

Ienzo took a quick breath, one hand clutching at Demyx’s arm. “No.” He tried to compose himself, but this composure was quickly broken when he eased in the second finger. “Never. I…” He’d shut his eyes again. “I’m so glad it did.”

He kissed him, brushing his tongue against Ienzo’s. The small sound he made only made Demyx’s pulse quicken. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. He was a bit breathless. 

This too was easier. It’d never be quite effortless; nothing good ever was. Demyx lubed himself, and for a moment they fumbled to get into position. Ienzo lost his balance and fell; he caught himself and laughed a little. “Ever graceful,” he muttered. “Is everything good to--”

“Yeah.” He snorted. “I thought I was needy.”

Ienzo considered this. “Just shut up,” he said, and kissed him.

Maybe things were familiar, but that didn’t lessen how they felt; he shuddered a little as he pushed inside, the tightness much needed. Demyx exhaled sharply and let his hands drop to Ienzo’s waist. For a moment they waited, breathing against one another, until Ienzo began to move, gentle and slow. This was almost worse than before, tightening the knots of anticipation inside of him. Demyx pulled him closer, deeper, and heard a soft gasp which meant he’d found his mark. Ienzo shivered and dropped his gaze.

Demyx reached up to touch his face. Ienzo laid his hand on top of Demyx’s. “I know you said to be quiet,” he said, with difficulty. “But I’m dying here.”

He laughed a little. “Let me take care of that for you.” He kissed him and shifted his weight. Something about the angle tightened the way they were connected, and Demyx moaned into the crook of Ienzo’s shoulder. “Like that? I don’t know how I did that… Let me…”

Watching him try to figure it out only turned him on more. Ienzo pulled him still closer, to the point where Demyx needed to stick out an arm to prop himself up. He felt Ienzo’s dick against his stomach and without thinking reached to touch it; but rather than say something or push away his hand like normal, he only made a small sound. “Is that too much?” Demyx asked him. 

He exhaled. “Yes, but I want it.”

Demyx could feel the difference, the urgency in the way he moved against him; his own heart was racing and the world threatened to dissolve into color. He could feel himself threatening to tip over the edge, a space full of heat and vulnerability. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put this off; every thrust only intensified the feeling. He hated finishing first; it never seemed fair. He tightened his grip against Ienzo, only to cave into the sweetness of the inevitable, a shudder crossing through his frame. Ienzo kissed him. Only then did he feel the stickiness against his palm.

“I can feel it,” Ienzo admitted, almost embarrassed. “When you--”

Demyx sighed. “Sorry.”

“No. It… I… well. It certainly… helps things.” His flush reddened. He pulled them apart. They lay down. Only then could Demyx feel his other arm shaking from the weird angle, but he ignored it. “The straw that broke the camel’s back. As it were.”

“I hate being first--”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Bad bediquette.”

He snorted. “Like I’d know the difference.” He tugged at the covers, pulling it up around them. “It’s such a unique vulnerability, in that moment. I don’t think I could do it with anyone else.”

“...I know what you mean. Like someone could kill you in one hit.”

“Or else my heart will split open.” He propped his chin up against Demyx’s chest. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything tangible to give you.”

“Like that wasn’t enough?”

He leaned up to kiss him once. “For the first year?”

“There will be more.”

“If we’re lucky. If we don’t kill one another first.” But he was smiling. 

“I’m afraid you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Then perhaps I should try harder.”

Demyx laughed. “Well. Now you know my weaknesses. Just make it quick.”

Ienzo hugged him. “It’s the least I could do.”


	19. Friendly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even comes to Demyx to have a wound healed, only to end up in a deeper conversation neither of them want to be having.
> 
> Timeline: before short 11, "Revision."

The air had grown cold again.

The changes to the heating system in the castle could only do so much good; Demyx still shivered, especially as he struggled with armloads of wet sheets. A faint, virginal snow was starting to fall, but like the flurries before it, probably wouldn’t stick. 

He brought the clean, wet clothing back downstairs. There was a line in one of the empty rooms on their floor; leaving it all upstairs would just make it freeze. Demyx longed, suddenly and out of nowhere, for a dryer, for a fresh hot blanket. Appliances were really the only things he missed about being a Nobody.

He saw Even reaching for their apartment door, holding something wrapped tightly around his forearm. “Good, you’re here,” he said through his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Demyx asked him. “What’d you do to yourself?”

“What indeed,” Even muttered. “Either way I need your help.”

Demyx decided that he’d gloat later; how many times had Even saved his own skin? “Come on. Sit down.” He guided Even over to the couch and reached for his medic bag, at the door, and cast a spell on his hands to kill the germs. “Is it bleeding? Can I see it?” 

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands first?” Even asked sourly.

Demyx fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I already cleaned them with magic.” He took Even’s bony wrist into one hand and unwrapped the cloth. He saw a nasty gash, surrounded by what looked to be chemical burns. “Ouch. How’d you do that?” He started to clean it gently, staunching the bleeding and soothing the burns, goading the skin to grow and heal. Even’s energy felt strange; cold, analytical, an undertone of something hidden. In and around the wound were other scars--rough, red, and angry, woven together like branches on a tree. Demyx wondered for the first time how Vexen had passed, and suddenly was intensely grateful for his own uneventful death (relatively speaking).

“A beaker got too hot, and burst. These things happen. All the glass I work with is so old, it’s only a matter of time. I would’ve tended to it myself, but…”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” Demyx said evenly. “How’s that feel?”

“Better. Faster that what I could’ve done. You have my thanks.” His tone was brisk. 

“It’s not too late for you to learn,” Demyx said. 

“What, old dog, new tricks?” Even asked. “I’ve studied enough medicine. This might surprise you, but I don’t exactly have… the proper countenance.”

Demyx laughed a little. “It’s okay.”

He rolled his sleeve down over the newly-healed wound. “I’ve enough of bodies, I think.”

Even had been keeping all his projects to himself. “...Yeah?”

“The human body is so… fragile. So fallible.”

“I know,” Demyx said. “Preaching to the choir.”

Even almost looked as if he would stand. “You’re still… gung-ho, about this, then?” he asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I recall once upon a time you were quite flighty.”

“Then isn’t now.” It wasn’t that warm in here either; Demyx figured he should probably build a fire. 

Even exhaled heavily. “I… apologize if that remark offended you.”

Demyx knelt by the hearth and started to lay down some kindling. “It didn’t.”

“Yet your tone is rather cold.”

“As is yours. As is all of you, actually.”

“Cold like ice?” Even asked.

Demyx looked up. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I think we’re far beyond tailoring responses for tact.”

“Are we?” He crumpled some paper and lit it with a match, letting the fire flick across the paper before laying it on the kindling. Even flinched just the slightest; almost imperceptibly. But Demyx had studied people long enough to tell the difference. “For a while I thought we were getting closer. But you’re still hiding yourself away, so. I don’t know what that means.” The fire began to burn eagerly, and he held his hands in front of it to warm them. “You can go, if you want. Your arm should be fine.”

“...Quite. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Demyx watched the colors, red and orange and yellow, a soft percussive prickling.

He heard Even turn. “All these… words about the linearity of progress, of healing. You must realize that this isn’t as easy for me as it is for you.”

“It’s not easy.” He met his eyes. “It’s never easy. Not for a minute. You don’t know the half of it.”

Even said nothing.

“You know I take meds? We both do. Otherwise the trauma literally makes me unable to function. And I’ve heard Ienzo talk about what happened in the basement, and what happened at Castle Oblivion. I  _ know _ , Even. I know what you did to him, and to Ansem.”

For a second his expression slackened somewhat. “You must be very angry with me, then.”

“Ienzo forgives you. So I do too.” He added a small log to the fire. 

“You must understand, then. How difficult it is to move on. I see the reminders of it every day.”

“You think I don’t?” He swallowed, and was surprised to feel the lump in his throat. “Even, you can’t keep living like this.”

Demyx expected defensiveness from him, but all he said was, “I know.” He sat on the couch. “I’m aware this is not healthy. Physically or mentally. What am I to do? Burden that boy with the weight of these things I supposedly feel?”

“What about Ansem? Or Aeleus or Dilan? Aren’t they your friends?”

““Friend” is a loose term.”

“What about me, then? I’m not... I’m not him, Even. I’m not Demyx.”

“Yet you wear the same face and have the same name.”

“You know what I mean.” He bit his lip. “Do you want to get better? Or are you just running from anything meaningful?”

He turned pink. “Part of it is… I hope… practicality,” he said slowly. “I recall that, for you… the intensity of your returning humanity pushed you to the edge. I do not wish to experience that. I do not need my existence to be so… precarious.”

Demyx sighed. “Is this about Ansem? About when he tried to--”

“I do not wish to be a burden. On anyone. I do not crave… pity.”

“You can’t stay in this middle state forever, though. You need to let your heart grow.” 

Even said nothing, and dropped his gaze.

“I can help you,” Demyx said. “I know how it feels, Even. I think I might be the only one.”

He was silent, and Demyx wondered if he’d touched a nerve. Finally, “Was it moreso… memories, or feelings?” he asked.

“The memories came… later,” he said. “It was… anxiety more than anything. And nightmares. And then… I…”

“You fell in love?” he said dryly.

“Well, yeah. It’s about… seeing and being seen, or whatever. When I realized he loved me back, it… it  _ hurt _ . I thought I was having a heart attack. But I don’t think it necessarily has to be romantic. You have to…  _ decide _ to be human.”

Even said nothing.

“Don’t you want that?” Demyx asked.

He sighed. “I like to think so.”

“It’s better than being numb all the time.”

“Worth the anxiety that makes you unable to function?”

Demyx bit his lip. He was trying to be patient, but now he was just getting irritated. “Even, I don’t know, okay? I can’t make this better for you. I can’t convince you to want something when you so clearly don’t.”

He seemed startled by this.

“You want to be miserable and alone, that’s fine by me.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. 

“Well. If that’s how you feel.” He left without another word.

* * *

“I’m a terrible person,” Demyx said. “I… I yelled at him, Ienzo. He needed help, and I--”

On the other end of the phone call, Ienzo’s voice was calm. “Even knows how to get under people’s skin. It’s a defense mechanism. He _wanted_ you to get mad at him.”

The tears in his eyes wobbled. “You think?”

“Oh, I’m positive. He wanted to have an excuse to not put the work in.” A pause. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. If it makes you feel better, try apologizing, though I admit that’s something of a powder keg.”

“Aren’t you worried about him?”

“Of course I am,” he said slowly. “But, Demyx, it’s like… herding cats.”

Demyx looked over at their own cat, curled on the bed. 

“Do you want me to come talk to you?” Ienzo asked. “Are you alright?”

Demyx sighed. “I think I’ve got it.”

* * *

He went down to Even’s lab. His heart was racing, but he tried to hold firm, rehearsing what he might say. The door was, to his surprise, slightly ajar. 

Down here it was even colder, and he shivered. He opened the door a bit more, flinched when it creaked. He was half expecting Even to be gone; but he was by the window, staring down. “Hey,” he said softly. “Listen, I--”

“You were right.”

He blinked. “What?” 

“Does your hearing need to be checked? You were right.” He nearly turned, then stopped himself. “You can’t do algebra, yet you have a better understanding of humanity than I after years of study. It is… galling.”

“Uh… sorry? I guess?” Demyx chanced talking a few steps towards him. 

“I’ve been making excuses. I’ve been… lazy. I’ve been trying to save myself from this… remorse, because I don't want any of you see me fall apart. Why is it you care, Demyx? After all my belittling of you?”

“That was years ago.”

“Does it matter?”

Demyx sighed. He reached out to touch Even’s arm and just barely felt him flinch. 

“I feel… stuck. I didn’t realize… that this feeling is not productive.”

“You can change that.”

He nodded. 

“Besides, we’re… we’re sort of family, right? What other reason do I need?”

Even shuddered a little. Demyx couldn’t quite see his face, but he realized that he was probably crying.  
  
He looked out the window too, at the snow, still falling. “It’s hard to be vulnerable. I know. Especially after what we all went through. It fucking sucks, right? That to survive all that, now we have to deal with this…”

“...Psychological consequence?”

“I was going to say “bullshit”, but that works too.”

There was a moment or two of silence. “I forget what it is to… care,” Even said. “But isn’t that what’s been missing? From this… atonement? I can feel passionate about numbers, about the science, but I haven’t seen beyond that. So you’re right. It’s time to shore up. I should at the very least be the bigger grown-up than you.”

Demyx laughed a little. “I know you didn’t have many options, but… thanks for letting me be the one to deliver the replica.”

“Thanks for following through. For once.”

“I’m going to hug you now.”

“I’d rather you didn't.”

“Too late.” Demyx gave him a quick squeeze, and heard him sigh heavily. “Come have dinner with us.”

“...Alright. I… it is rather cold in here, isn’t it? I should get that looked at.” He looked away, and Demyx pretended not to notice him drying his eyes. “You’re not half-bad.”

“Back at you.”


	20. Storied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo and Ansem attempt to repair their bond.

Ienzo and Ansem were still getting used to one another. It was not at all like the halcyon days of his childhood; the ebb and flow of tension was a near constant.

Ienzo knew that really he should be more bitter towards the others, rather than Ansem; but he could not reconcile the feelings towards anyone else. Maybe it had something to do with their relationship with his Nobody? A child’s feelings were not necessarily logical, as much as he had thought he was an intelligent one; it was a stone in a river, causing infinite ripples.

He wanted desperately for things to be better between them, but there was so much muck to wade through; the collective mistakes of their pasts. It was one thing to  _ want  _ to forgive and forget; another to put in the work.

Ansem was waiting for him one afternoon, in his quarters. It seemed to be a neutral ground; it was one of the few spaces they'd spent time together that was not mired in bad memory. "I found a rather delightful brand of tea when I was out shopping. I do think you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will. I'm not so picky. As long as it is warm." He was so much more sensitive to temperature than he used to be.

For a while they sat by the window, watching the pale sunshine. Ienzo found the tea to be a bit too citrusy and sharp for his tastes, but he was able to get it down without much fuss.

"I appreciate you coming to spend time with me," Ansem said. "I'm sure you have more pressing, and more desirable, things on your plate."

"It is my pleasure. I… know we want to get to know one another again."

"Indeed." Ansem took another drink, a longer one. "How are you, Ienzo?"

"I am faring… decently." He did not want to bring up his breakdown in front of Even… or, in fact, the one he'd had in front of Aeleus. Goodness. "To borrow a phrase Demyx uses, "a bitch be going through it.""

Ansem chuckled. "And things are going well on that front?"

"Well, yes," he said. "I feel… quite attached."

"I'm glad you have someone you can rely on."

"Things between him and I are not so complicated. At least, not as they are between the rest of us. If I may be so candid."

"Yes?"

To tell such naked truths was still difficult. "Ma--Ansem." Ansem insisted they be on a first name basis. "I did not think this would ever be something I'd experience. The ways we hurt people in the past, using their bonds against them… it all makes so much more sense. I can feel the pain and regret so much more acutely. If someone had done to me what I did to them, I'd be… shattered." Ansem opened his mouth; Ienzo interrupted him. "Before you say this is not my fault. I know this. Yet, there's the survivor's guilt, on top of what happened after all that. There is so much more to my past than those few awful months."

Ansen sighed heavily, and folded his hands tightly in his lap. "I realize this."

"We mustn't dance around it anymore. I did not metamorphose from the child you remember into the adult sitting across from you. There was a point when I was someone else. As were you, if I recall correctly."

Ansem shook his head. "DiZ," he said softly. "I believe I… understand what you're speaking of. I did not simply emerge from the darkness eleven years later. I dug myself out of it the only way I knew how--I embraced it."

Ienzo crossed his legs, letting the silence stretch for a few moments, running his eyes along the patterns in the worn carpet. "To a degree, some of what we did, we did to survive," he said slowly. "Neither of us could have possibly escaped those situations otherwise. I… for the sake of my sanity… had to believe wholeheartedly in what they did. In what  _ I _ did. For the sake of the greater good. Knowledge. The potential for humanity, for a better world." He hadn't quite let himself go to this place in his mind, even all these months after he'd woken. 

Ansem squeezed his hand. "Peace, Ienzo."

"I know." He took a breath, feeling the sharp lump in his throat. "If you would bear with me, I… would like to follow this train of thought. I think I need to." Ienzo took a moment to compose himself. "We engineered the fall of worlds," he said, with difficulty. "We manipulated those in power--using the same techniques we used here. It really can take so little to make or break a heart. And who do you think was at the center of this? The planning, the strategies? It was another puzzle, Ansem. And you know I love puzzles. Perhaps I did not kill anyone with my bare hands, but that likely would have been a mercy compared to what I  _ did _ do." He found it difficult to look up. "The illusions were capable of so much more than frippery, self-defense. Show someone their greatest fears, or their deepest insecurities, and they'll eat out of your palm." He looked down to his own hands, which were trembling. "The most disturbing thing about all this was that I  _ enjoyed _ the power. The sensation that I had their minds in my hands, that I could influence… whatever I wished. I  _ said _ I only used that power for the greater good, but I believe I deluded myself into submission."

Ansem looked more sad than anything. "I did not… realize the extent to which they controlled you."

Ienzo could feel his face reddening. "It wasn't all them, Ansem. This you must understand. I committed… atrocities. Puppet or not, there was a point where I should have known better. Where I should have realized--" His voice was starting to break. 

Ansem stood; for a moment Ienzo thought he might leave, his expression was unreadable. He crossed over to Ienzo in his chair and embraced him. 

Ienzo took a sharp breath, a few strangely cool tears breaking through. A shuddering sob cut through him.

"Oh, my boy," Ansem said. "Are we not all guilty in some way? Every single one of us have done horrific things we regret--including your beloved. And you do not despise him for it, do you?"

"...No," he said at last, still crying freely.

"We are all atoning in our own ways. You mustn't despise yourself for it, either." 

"I am trying." 

"I know. You are excelling at it… as you do for everything you devote yourself to." Ansem stroked his hair. It was an oddly familiar gesture. 

Ienzo tried to pull himself together. He realized he was clinging to Ansem, and let go. He dried his eyes quickly. "I… apologize."

"Whatever for?" Ansem smiled a little. "I shouldn't mind to take care of you. I have years to make up for."

"There is no point mourning what could have been. All there is… is now." He sat back a little, and Ansem returned to his chair.

"...Indeed."

What was left of Ienzo's tea was cold by now, but he needed it to soothe himself. "...Will you tell me? About what it meant to be DiZ?"

Ansem frowned. "I am not… proud of those days," he admitted. "As you said, I had the  _ best _ intentions." This he said with malice. "Reeling with the unkempt trauma of the darkness, I only had rage. I was angry--with my wayward apprentices--with you."

Ienzo smiled.

Ansem seemed befuddled. “Why is it you have this reaction?”

“I was angry with you too. It’s good to know our feelings were reciprocated.”

Ansem laughed a little, but after a moment, he sobered. “I was selfish,” he said. “I sought vengeance, mostly for myself, and for my pride. I… believed that Nobodies did not deserve to exist, therefore justifying my abuse of Roxas in the digital Twilight Town, and also of Naminé. That poor girl’s life has really been nothing but horror, and Roxas didn’t fare much better.”

“If it’s any consolation, they are both flourishing,” Ienzo said politely.

“This I know--no thanks to me.” He smiled sadly. “I used them as pawns--and while I believed, like you said, that I was working  _ for the greater good _ , to save Sora from the mess he ended up in after Castle Oblivion, how is my exploitation of them any better than anything you did in the Organization?” A pause. “Ienzo, we have both made mistakes. But we’ve learned. Once I… collect myself, I hope to devote my life to atonement.”

Ienzo considered this. He’d gathered from the scraps of information he’d had what Ansem had been up to, a year or so ago. He had a feeling there were still pieces of the story he was withholding; namely, the previous ten or so years he’d spent in the realm of darkness. “How are you faring?”

Ansem thought about it. “Better than I was, on the whole,” he said. “I do… write a lot. It helps to make sense of these things once they’re on paper. I doubt these memoirs are very palatable.”

“I do not need to see them, unless you wish to share them.”

“Perhaps someday.” There was a significant pause in the conversation, long enough that Ienzo wondered if it were impolite to excuse himself. But then Ansem added, “You’ve walked the realm of darkness, have you not?”

“Many times.”

“Did you ever… feel anything? Oh, that’s a vague query. Let me think.” He put a hand under his chin. “Rather, did it manipulate the way you saw things?”

Ienzo blinked, then squinted through the veil of his ever-weakening memory. “I cannot be certain, if I’m being honest,” he admitted. “Nobodies do not… experience emotion in the same way humans do, if they do at all. Even when I became older, and theoretically began to grow a heart, it was very… matter-of-fact. If I experienced any instances of ill temper while moving through it, I likely attributed it to something else.” He tried to think. “It takes a spark, and more than that, nurturing, to allow a heart to be that sensitive to such things.”

Ansem nodded slowly. “This… numbness. How much of it was your biology, how much of it was manipulation, and how much of it was the sheer level of trauma inflicted upon you?”

For a moment, Ienzo skimmed Zexion’s memories. In context, it made much more sense for Xemnas’s ideology that they were unfeeling, and therefore inferior (or superior, depending on the day) to take root. “Apples, oranges, pears,” he mumbled.

“Beg pardon?”

“It’s essentially tit for tat. Regardless of how exactly it happened, I did not feel much of anything. Versus now, when I feel…  _ everything. _ ”

Ansem chuckled. “Making up for lost time.”

“So it seems.” He settled back a bit more comfortably in the chair. “I’m teaching myself to not mind these feelings. In the beginning--that is to say, my new life as Ienzo--I forced myself to exist in a false spectrum of logic and emotion. But that is simply impossible. I will  _ feel _ regardless of how well I try to reason through it.”

Ansem leaned forward a little. “I hate to cause offense, but this is all rather psychologically fascinating.”

“It is.” He paused. “Some of these feelings, such as love, or joy, are intoxicating. But on the other hand… the guilt, the fear, the existential dread… is equally overwhelming.”

He twisted his scarf in one hand. “To a degree I feel the same. My numbness was deliberate, instead of biological. I used my anger to bolster myself against the pain of the betrayal.”

“I am sorry.” The words left him almost unconsciously.

Ansem squeezed his hand. “You were not at fault, dear Ienzo. At that moment in time you were so manipulated you could not have known better.”

“I know this.” He looked up, again fighting tears. “I still apologize.” He took a breath to smother the urge. “Do you still feel much… bitterness, towards the others?”

This question seemed to catch Ansem off guard. “We are not as… plastic, as you are,” he said. “I believe we need to process what this all means to us before we can begin to understand what we feel towards one another. I’m sure they all feel remorse, in their own way, perhaps more intensely than I can conceive.”

“But do you?”

Ansem scratched his beard. “How can I not? I trusted these men with my mind, my heart--and they took everything I worked towards and perverted it. I know they were under Xehanort’s influence, and had I not so foolishly taken him in we might be in a very different place. All the same, it is hard not to see that… when I look at them. It is hard to trust them.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said. 

He let Ansem digest this for several minutes. Finally, he said, “I do thank you for sharing all this with me. I realize it is not easy to trust me, either.”

“It is becoming easier each day,” Ienzo admitted. “That day you called me your… son. Do you feel that way, despite everything that’s happened?”

Ansem seemed to not know how to answer the question; he hesitated. “Legally speaking, I _was_ your father.”

“The law no longer exists as it once was. And I am grown.”

He thought about it. “I… would like to,” he admitted, with some embarrassment. “I’ve done nothing but made your life difficult save for a few moments of tenderness. But I care for you deeply, Ienzo.”

“I… feel the same.”

Ansem smiled; it seemed more genuine now. 

Ienzo met his eyes. “I’m still… learning about the concept of family,” he said. “I know it’s what we once were. Not just you and I, but… all of us.”

Ansem scoffed. “A motley crew.”

“Yes. And among the many things Demyx has helped me realize, I… want nothing more than to have that again.”

He nodded. He seemed to relax a little, looking into his already-drained teacup as if it might spontaneously refill. “I admit, when I found out about the two of you I was… hesitant. Not as a critique of your orientation--never that--but because, well, we were all reeling badly. I did not see… what was compatible in the long term, and the last thing you needed on top of everything else was heartbreak.”

Ienzo took a deep breath.

“But now that I’ve gotten to know him as well… I think you truly balance one another out.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“I suppose I figured I was entitled to defend you, to make decisions for you. Alas, I am not.” He laughed. 

“No, you’re not.” But he said this with humor. “This will… take time.”

“Indeed. Though it seems that things will only get better from here on out.”

“I should hope so, after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” Ienzo shook his head, to himself mostly; “trouble” was putting it lightly. “Well. I believe I should go start dinner. Would you like to join us?”

This startled him. “That would be… quite nice.”


	21. Census

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radiant Garden's census should be simple and boring, but ends up raising bigger questions about Demyx and Ienzo's relationship.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

“Mail for you. For all of us, really.” Demyx dumped the handful of envelopes onto the old oak table. Dilan looked up at him, unamused.

“And what is this tripe?” he asked.

“Radiant Garden’s first official census.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he drawled. “I’ll get right to it.”

“Just do it. Please. It’ll take ten minutes. Aerith has been on my ass about getting you guys to fill out the paperwork.”

Dilan, very slowly, opened the envelope. “So you’ve done yours, then?”

“No, but--”

Dilan flicked an envelope at him. “Go on. It’ll take ten minutes.”

Demyx groaned. “When Leon comes to kick your ass, don’t come crying to me.”

When he got back to the apartment, he was still grumbling about Dilan, and the ten wittier comebacks he’d thought of since then. Dilan just didn’t get it. Dilan’s situation was  _ substantially _ less complicated than his own.

He had a point, though. It’d have to get done sometimes.

He made himself some coffee and sat staring at the form for a long, long time.

It started with the first box. Name. Okay, did he put his birth name or his real name? And surname? Did he use it? Could he leave it blank? Not to mention that was without bringing  _ age _ into it. There were only enough spaces for two digits. Needless to say, it was all a fucking mess.

There were also things that threw him for a loop. Birthplace? Address? He knew the town like the back of his hand and yet he didn’t really think there were even  _ street names. _ The only boxes he could fill with any certainty involved gender, basic physical markers, and occupation.

He picked up his phone. “Ienzo, I need help,” he whined.

“And I need to finish my studies, but do go on.”

“Why is everyone being so sassy today?” he mumbled.

“Because needling you is entertaining.”

Ienzo couldn’t see him, but Demyx rolled his eyes. 

“So what is it you need help with?”

“This census is giving me an identity crisis.”

Ienzo sighed heavily. “I’ll be right there.”

And he was, not fifteen minutes later. 

“So what is this identity crisis?” he asked.

Demyx turned the form and slid it towards him on the table. “How the fuck am I supposed to fill this out?”

“Well, typically, via writing.”

He shot him a look.

Ienzo sighed. “I have to admit your case is…  _ unique _ .” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “You should probably ask Leon.”

“Imagine that conversation. “Hey Leon, I know you have a lot on your plate, but I’m five hundred years old and also changed my name like six times, so what do you want from me?””

He snorted. “You’re not  _ five hundred. _ I think the number Even and I eventually settled on was four hundred and thirty-eight.”

“ _ Ienzo. _ ”

“I’m kidding. My goodness. Demyx, it’s not worth this much stress.” He smiled. 

Demyx looked down at the form. “I mean, for me it is,” he said. “It’s the first time I’m… real, somewhere.”

His look softened. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“No, you wanted to make fun of me instead.”

“Hey, I feel like I’ve earned a few good digs at you.” He pulled his chair closer to Demyx’s. “Let’s see what we can figure out. Your first name is easy. Would you want to use your surname? We could also make one up. I could probably find books on the history of nomenclature if you want to pick something meaningful. You’re twenty-three, which would make the birth year…” He scribbled something down. “And your birthday is in spring.”

“I’m a Libra.”

Ienzo furrowed his eyebrows. “A what?”

“It makes sense if you’re from Daybreak Town.”

“...Which is where you were born. See? It’s simpler than you thought.”

“I… I guess so.”

Ienzo flipped the form over. “Is it bad that I sometimes miss paperwork? I do so love organizing information.”

“...Nerd.”

He rolled his eyes. Then, consulting the form. “...What’s this?”

“What? Favorite color? Favorite pastime?”

Ienzo set the paper down. “It’s asking if you live with anyone. Like, your relationship status.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “Why do you looked so shocked? That’s like the easiest one to answer. Here, let me--” Demyx picked up the pen to write, but Ienzo took his hand and set it aside.

“It’s asking if we’re together.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“ _ Legally _ together.”

He got it.  _ “Oh. _ ”

There was a very long, pregnant pause. Ienzo bit his lip, and then looked Demyx dead in the eye. “Well, are we?”

Was he hearing this right? “Did you just propose to me?”

“Say I did. What would your answer be?”

His heart was beating so fast. They’d never discussed anything like this, mostly because Demyx didn’t even think it was an option. It’d been a little over a year that they’d been together.

He didn’t see that changing any time soon.

“Yes.” He could feel his eyes watering. “I’d say yes.”

Ienzo took his hand. “Well then I think that settles that. As well as the issue of your surname; you can take mine.” His expression was relatively unmoved, but Demyx could hear it in his voice.

“Did we…” He blinked quickly. “Did we just get engaged?”

“I think so.”

Demyx pulled him into an embrace. The tears were hot against his face, but welcome. “I love you.”

“And I you. Relatively obviously, I feel.” He kissed him, despite the fact that it was probably uncomfortably wet and tasted like salt. Ienzo took his hands and, very gently, led him to bed.

* * *

As he worked the next day, Demyx tried the word on.

_ I’m someone’s fiance.  _

It felt odd. Weirdly mature.

_ We’re engaged. That means we’re going to get married. _

Admittedly, he had no idea what that meant. He was ignorant of Radiant Garden’s customs, and actually not even really aware of his own. Was it just a piece of paper? Was it a ceremony? Even though all their friends knew they were together, the thought of confessing his love for Ienzo in front of them actually made him anxious. 

Not that he wasn’t ready. He was pretty sure he was. How different was it from living together? They hadn’t killed each other yet. That was a good sign, right?

He found himself wanting to talk about it. As he and Aerith met for lunch so he could brief her on the day’s cases, he found his mind wandering. He realized that, aside from Ienzo, Aerith was his best friend. 

Demyx blurted it between mouthfuls of roast beef. “Hey, so, Ienzo and I got engaged?”

She paused over her udon. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m engaged?” He found he couldn’t meet her eyes, and a blush flooded his face.

“...Really?”

He took a drink, almost swallowing the wrong way. “Yep. Happened yesterday.”

She left her chair and hugged him. “I’m so happy for you,” she said earnestly. “How do you feel?”

“I’m still in shock. But in a good way.”

She sat back down. “So did he ask? Did you? Was it romantic?”

“Honestly?” he laughed a little. “Not at all. It’s because of the paperwork.”

She looked confused. “The--?”

“The census. It asked if I was married. And he said, “well, are we?””

Aerith processed this. She snorted, then laughed until she cried. “That is the most Ienzo thing I’ve ever heard,” she said once she regained her composure.

“Yeah. I thought so too.”

She lifted her glass of juice. “Well. To the two of you.”

* * *

He returned home, feeling better about it all. It suited them. They had never really been the grand romantic gesture type.

(Except for repeatedly getting stabbed/overextending their powers/almost getting killed by Heartless.)

When he got back, a little after dark, Ienzo was waiting for him. He set aside his book. A fire had been lit in the hearth, against the chill of the day. "Hey."

"Hey, you."

"Did you eat? Dinner's about ready." 

"No. Not yet." 

They ate in near silence. "Would you like some wine?"

"Sure, but what for?" 

Ienzo handed him a glass. "Don't people celebrate these things?"

He cracked a smile. "I guess they do."

Ienzo settled back in his chair. "It occurred to me as I was reading a  _ very _ boring paper this morning that perhaps it all lacked some kind of finesse." He looked into the glass as though studying its deep red color. 

"Finesse?" He snorted a little. "What, candles? Rose petals? Chocolate?"

"Well, certainly not by accident over a piece of paperwork. Not accident," he amended quickly. "Perhaps… by premature expression. The possibility did not even enter my mind until I saw that question."

"Do you want to take it back?"

"Of course not. The more I consider... the more it feels right."

He had a point. Demyx blushed. "Well that's good." He finished his glass of wine. "I think… I think it was very  _ you _ , the way you did it. And that means more to me than some empty gesture you stole from books."

"...You don't feel deprived?"

"You're literally offering to put up with me for the rest of our lives and you're asking if I feel deprived?"

"...It does sound silly," Ienzo conceded. "Still. I should like to try it. Candles."

He caught onto the mood immediately. "I'll do you one better. It's a full moon."

He blushed. "It is. That's good luck."

Demyx leaned across the table to kiss him. Ienzo stood, and, stumbling a little, sat in his lap. They kissed here for a while, long enough to forget the dishes. 

"Come here," Ienzo said. They went back out into the living room. He pulled open one of the curtains, enough to let the soft silver light in. "That is nice."

"Hm."

Demyx rested against him for a moment, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He kissed the soft skin of Ienzo's throat and started to unbutton his shirt. He could hear the response, his breath quickening, and he felt himself start to harden. "I'm guessing this is where you wanted things to head?"

"You'd be right," he said thickly.

Demyx helped him slip off his shirt and slacks. Ienzo turned and kissed him more deeply, slipping his tongue into his mouth. It was all so gentle, but he was coming undone, slowly. There was no need to rush. They had time. 

He felt Ienzo's hands at his hips, fumbling with the belt and button of his jeans, and broke off the kiss to help him. He tugged off his shirt while he was at it, but before he could kiss him again, he caught sight of him in the moonlight.

It seemed to hit Demyx, all at once, the deep permanence of everything. "What is it?" Ienzo asked.

Demyx pressed his lips against his forehead. "You're so beautiful." Ienzo brushed his hands along Demyx's sides, the touch sending a shiver through him. His skin was so warm, almost feverish. "Things will always be the same."

"No," Ienzo said softly. He traced more circles along Demyx's back. "We'll always grow. We'll always change. And perhaps become more adventurous." He slid his hand downward, over Demyx's dick, and Demyx gasped out loud. "I look forward to exploring it with you."

He struggled out of his underwear and felt at Ienzo's own. "I want you." He pulled him close and could, for just a moment, feel his heart racing. 

"I was thinking…" Ienzo mumbled. "That I might…"

"You might what?" He lifted Ienzo's chin slightly.

"That I might take you."

Another shiver went through him, stronger than the last. "You're more nervous about that than asking me to marry you."

"I was always sure about you. Less so than of myself."

A few beats of silence. Ienzo kissed him suddenly, with more insistence, pushing him towards the bed. Demyx fell back against the softness and felt Ienzo straddle him. He reached down to stroke him. Ienzo's whole frame was shaking a little. "So," Ienzo said. "Do you… do you want that?"

"Uh, yeah." He'd been wanting it for months now. "Yes." 

"Let me just get the--"

"Okay."

He held the bottle tightly in one hand. "Could you lie on your stomach? I think that might be easier."

Anticipation broke in a warm wave over him. Demyx turned over and adjusted the pillow under him. "Be gentle," he said. His voice quivered a little. "It's been a long time."

"Of course." Ienzo leaned over to kiss him once. It was hard to really see anything like this, other than the open window and the moon. Demyx tried to relax, to make it easier, but god this was really happening. He felt a finger inside of him, an incredible pressure. "You alright?" Ienzo asked.

"Yeah."

"It feels so…" He heard Ienzo take a deep breath. 

"You like it?"

"I believe so."

He felt another finger, and more pressure.  _ Relax. Relax. _ It was nearly painful, but it quickly subsided as he got used to it. 

"Can I try?" Demyx heard him ask.

"Gentle. Slow. I'm basically a virgin."

He heard him laugh a little. "It's been a while?"

"Try four hundred and some years."

Demyx felt a little bit of fumbling. He tried to spread his legs a little wider, to soften. His heart was beating so hard he didn't know how it wasn't audible. 

"Okay," Ienzo said. "Let me know if it ever hurts."

Demyx felt the warmth of him, then the pressure again, not so bad. He felt against the sheets for Ienzo's hand, or a leg, any part of him to hold. A hand found his and gave it a squeeze.

Ienzo gasped a little, sending another wave of desire through him.  He pressed deeper, slowly. There wasn't pain, Demyx noted with relief. It might be easier than he thought. "Try moving," he suggested, as his arousal started to outweigh the previous discomfort.

"You're ready?"

"Yeah."

Ienzo did. There was a minute, or maybe several, where he seemed not quite sure of what to do. He did move gently, not so deeply, a small sound catching in his throat. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, with difficulty.

"It doesn't hurt. At all."

He kissed Demyx's shoulder, the nape of his neck, and thrusted a little more confidently. Demyx could start to feel it, pleasure seeping back into the act, and he moaned. He couldn't quite believe how good it was to have him like this.

"Like this?"

He tried to catch his breath. "It's a little deeper."

"Right. You feel so…" Ienzo trailed off wordlessly, pressing more kisses against his neck and back, and then pushed a little bit more into him.

Demyx felt it like a shock. He'd forgotten what this felt like, how seamless and  _ strong _ , and really those awkward teenage fumblings didn't compare. "That's it," he gasped. "There, just keep--" Tension was already rapidly twining inside of him. He heard the soft noise he was making, half muffled into the pillow. A complete vulnerability, and to a degree a loss of control.

Ienzo pushed into him slow and deep, almost always getting him in just the right way. "How on earth do you do this?" He asked. "I'm so--you're so--"

He was getting so close. He pushed up against Ienzo. He felt Ienzo's hand slip free from his and under their bodies to touch him, his dick, and this touch on top of everything was too much. He'd forgotten what it felt like this way, so intense, he shivered as he came. For another few seconds he felt Ienzo still inside him, each thrust now a pleasure so strong it threatened pain. A flush of warmth broke it off. Ienzo pulled out of him, still gasping. Demyx turned slightly to kiss him. 

"You okay?" Demyx asked him.

He nodded. He was trembling all over. He got off of him and lay down, and for a long time they held each other.

"You know. For your first time, that was pretty fucking good."

Ienzo laughed softly, almost soundlessly. He didn't have to try to speak for Demyx to know he wouldn't be able to. So they didn't talk at all, and soon after fell asleep.

He woke early, when the light was still pinkish. Shifting onto his side, he could just barely feel a soreness between his legs. He didn’t mind it much. 

Ienzo stirred. “What time is it?”

“Super early o’clock.”

He groaned and pressed his face into the pillow. 

“Go back to sleep if you’re tired.” Demyx was surprisingly alert. 

“I shouldn’t. I have… things to do.” He yawned. He tried to smooth down his hair, which stuck up comically. 

“Important appointments?”

“I’m a very busy person.” Still, he didn’t move. “How do you feel?” Ienzo turned a bit pink.

“Sore, but I was expecting to be.”

“It surely was… something,” he admitted. “I was so afraid of hurting you.”

Demyx kissed him once. “You didn’t.”

“I should like to get better at it.”

He laughed. “Maybe in a few days we can try again.”

“Maybe.”

He stood and scooped his underwear off the floor. “I’ll make coffee. You want?”

“Yes.”

He’d just turned his back when Ienzo spoke again.

“Demyx?”

“Ienzo?” 

He smiled. “I’m glad it was you.”

He didn’t really have to elaborate; that about said it all. “Yeah. Me too.”


	22. Listless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo isn't okay.

Something wasn’t right.

Ienzo stared deeply into his plans, spread across the worktable and anchored by his research. He bit his lip. It had all been revised and engineered within an inch of its life; yet something was off, wrong. Was it the angles of the joints of the walls?

Maybe it had nothing to do with its creation, and all to do with its creator.

He had a vicious headache. Ienzo took off his glasses and rested his face in his hand for a moment, trying to rub away the pain. Ever since his confrontation with Even, and in the light of Ansem’s overwhelming depression, Ienzo was feeling increasingly shaken, and increasingly anxious. Sleeping was getting more and more difficult again.

Demyx didn’t seem to be doing well either.

It was clear that the poisoning had shaken him. For a few weeks after it happened, Demyx remained mostly in their apartment. He slept a lot, picked at Arpeggio aimlessly, songs that made no coherent sense to Ienzo. Ienzo first attributed this exhaustion to the aftereffects of the poison, but it seemed to go on longer than it should. This must have traumatized him; he was self-conscious enough when it came to his competency, and he could have taken this as a sign he was unwanted in the community. Ienzo was able to analyze Demyx’s mental state with ease; but he himself was too tired to be of any real help. He felt as though he were constantly carrying another dozen or so kilos.

Ienzo, too, just wanted to rest. The early winter day was cold. He would go home, he decided. He would take a bath and make himself some tea and he would read a perfectly awful book, and he would wait for this to blow over.

Would it?

The anxiety threatened to pull him into a spiral. What if this happiness they’d had had been temporary? His growth and healing falsified? He should have known better than to believe they would have a happy ending, or any ending for that matter.

Was this illogical?

He unlocked the apartment door. There Demyx was, curled under the covers. His gummiphone was on the bed beside him, but he didn’t look at it. He barely moved when Ienzo came into the room. Ienzo took off his shoes and slacks and crawled under the blankets as well. He pulled him close, a gesture that sought more to take comfort than to give it. 

Demyx turned, and for a moment they faced each other, wordlessly. 

“Are you alright?” Ienzo asked.

“No. You?”

“No.” At least he’d come this far, to be able to admit it. “The world lately has felt so very heavy.” He could feel the pinch in his throat, of oncoming tears, and tried to fight it. “I know you’re hurting, and I want to help, but I--”

“It’s okay,” Demyx said. “I know you’re dealing with a lot. You can’t take care of people when you’re drowning.”

“I used to.”

“Then is not now.” He looked so exhausted, his hair flat, circles under his eyes. “I’m not… going anywhere. I just need some rest.” 

“I can’t help but wonder…” It was warm under the covers, but still he shook. “What if this is all temporary, you know?”

“I know. God, do I know.”

“I know this is merely a relapse, of sorts. That these are conditions I have to manage and live with for the rest of my life. But they’re so close to convincing me this is how I’ll always be. I’m not that person. I’m logical, I reason. It feels so draining.”

His face crumpled a little. “I know. They… they triggered you. You have to deal with it. Repressing that pain makes it so much worse.” A sob caught in his throat. 

“I’m truly sorry,” Ienzo said. “You’re reeling from this trauma, and I--”

“I’ve been talking through it with Aerith.” He looked ashamed to admit it. “She gave me some pills, to help manage things… they make me so tired.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough on your plate. Besides, I should be… better in a week or two. When the chemicals in my head stabilize. Or whatever.” He didn’t make eye contact.

Ienzo knew that it wasn’t that simple. “Demyx…”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Ienzo touched Demyx’s face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days; the pale stubble was scratchy. “There has to be something I can do.”

“You can. You can take care of yourself.”

He inhaled. “You’ll tell me, if things get much worse?”

“Of course.”

Ienzo wanted to believe him. Yet it was so much easier to worry about Demyx than his own increasing instability. 

“I mean it, Ienzo. I’m not done with you.”

The smile seemed to take some effort. “Okay.”

* * *

He tried to get some rest.

He pulled himself away from the memorial, away from the internal. He assisted Even with some simple chemical experiments, had lunch with Ansem, went on a few rounds with Aeleus. Anything to keep his hands and body occupied.  _ Idle hands make the devil’s work. _ He understood.

Ienzo was determined not to overwork, just to get his mind off of heavier things until he could unravel them a bit more cleanly. Maybe if he let it percolate a bit more, it would grow clearer. 

On one of these rounds with Aeleus, they discovered what had evidently been a mother cat’s nest; there were several rodent skeletons, along with damp red stains of birth. But the mother and her kits were gone; aside from a small, wriggling lump in the makeshift scraps of fabric.

“Oh, poor thing,” Ienzo whispered. It was tiny, possibly the runt; its white and brown fur slightly matted. He was shocked to see it was still breathing, but hesitantly so; who knew how long it had been sitting here without its mother. He took the kitten into his hands, to try and warm it up a little bit. Its eyes were crusted over, possibly infected, and it trembled a little.

“It must be sick,” Aeleus said. “Perhaps we should… end its suffering.” It pained him to say this, his blue eyes glinting. “Mothers don’t usually abandon their young unless they feel it’s a lost cause.”

Ienzo stared at the kitten. So  _ small _ . Yet, the thought of stamping out its life repulsed him. “Well, I certainly wasn’t,” he said. “Perhaps… I want to at least try to nurse it.” He felt like a child.  _ Oh please, oh please can I keep it? _ “Demyx might be able to help me.”

Aeleus nodded, a shade of relief gracing his otherwise stoic face. “We could use a mouser.”

* * *

The first few days he was certain the kitten wouldn’t make it, and any attempts to treat its myriad illnesses felt like Ienzo was just prolonging its suffering. Demyx was only able to help so much--he knew humans, not cats--and for several hours Ienzo dripped milk and antibiotics intermittently into its small mouth. At least it was swallowing, and breathing. He kept as constant of an eye on it as he could, rubbing its small belly to stimulate digestion, wiping the pus from its eyes. He didn’t let it out of his sight and held it as much as he could, because it was so so tiny and so  _ cold _ . Even the incubation lamp he was able to borrow from Even didn’t seem to do much good.

“You’re going to cause yourself more hurt,” Even said gently. “I can… I can put it to rest painlessly, without violence.”

“I think she wants to live. She’s eating.”

Even shook his head. “If this is how you wish to spend your time. You can probably adopt a  _ healthy _ cat at the market.”

It took about a week of this, of trying different medicines and drops for its tiny eyes, before the kitten seemed to turn the corner. Its breaths were less labored, it was eating even more; it seemed to gain a few grams every day. Then the pus stopped weeping from its eyes and it gave a tiny, scratchy mew. And for some reason this unraveled him; Demyx found him bawling over the kitten and assumed it had died. Before long, its eyes opened--a temporary blue--to a startling new world.

Ienzo wasn’t sure what this whole ordeal had revealed about himself. The symbolism of it wasn’t lost on him. This uncomplicated kindness was a relief. 

She lived.

She went from being on the verge of death to being constantly underfoot, or climbing all over things, up to and including the curtains. She found a particular interest in Demyx’s sitar, trying to crawl over the frets. “Well,” Demyx said, “At least she’s not a critic.”

As she got bigger, she slept on (and in) the bed. She seemed to sense their nightmares; more than once Ienzo woke up to her purring next to his cheek, even as he woke in a cold sweat. 

The cat was a comfort to them both. But it still took weeks to name her. Demyx suggested silly names like Jat or Rocks, Ienzo found himself thinking about it entirely too hard, going so far as to look into nomenclature before finally Demyx said, “You know it’s a cat, right?”

One morning Demyx woke up with her paws on his face. All he said was “Beans.”

And Ienzo groaned, because he knew in his heart that the cat’s name was Beans. As stupid as it was. He tried to shorten it to Bea, or Bebe, but the cat didn’t respond to that. She, great comforter of anxiety, was now named after the legume family.

So it goes.

But she did help shake him out of that horrible spiral, and for that she was worth her weight in, well, beans. He could work near her, scratch the soft spot behind her ears, and get back to clear and concise thinking. It was grounding. He wondered how much of his childhood suffering would have been nullified if he’d just had a pet. It was something to look forward to, a concrete reason to exist; Beans needed him. As complex as he tried to be, really simple comforts meant more than intense psychological analysis. 

Gradually, the sense of heaviness that had been plaguing him began to fade, and he felt again hopeful. In a small way he would always resent how much control his emotions had over him, how they would muddy thoughts that had once been so easy to grasp. But this was part of humanity, and there was no going back. 


	23. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having space to return to grants Demyx and Ienzo new freedoms.
> 
> Timeline: immediately after short 4.
> 
> This short is NSFW.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever done this at night,” Ienzo said slowly. 

Demyx sat back down on the bed. Ienzo was still curled partially under the covers, his hair mussed. He thought about it. “...You’re right. What made you think of that?”

He exhaled heavily, flopping back down onto the pillows. “I was considering… stories,” he said. “That’s the way things usually go.”

Demyx laughed. “Since when have we  _ ever _ done anything normally?”

“That’s a fair point.” Ienzo reached out, resting a hand on the curve of his waist. 

Demyx lay on his side and looked out the window. “...Dark already?”

“It’s been a long day. In a manner of speaking.”

“We’ve been busy.”

He adjusted the blanket at his waist. “...This feels something like hedonism,” he admitted.

Demyx snorted. “What, because for once we actually get to have sex and then relax afterwards like regular people?”

He rolled his eyes. “...When you put it like that.”

“...This  _ was _ your idea,” Demyx reminded him, gesturing to the room. 

“Even so. I’ve become… uncomfortably used to rushing through things. It’s funny. Can you even remember the last time we did this on a bed?”

He thought about it. “...I gave you a handjob when I stayed over last week.”

“I  _ hardly _ think that counts.” Ienzo looked up at the ceiling. “...Especially because Even nearly walked in on us.” He turned red.

Demyx laughed a little. “So I guess that’s why?”

“Partially. Having one’s own space is part of growing up. I figured… it’s about time.”

He turned to face him. “You’re in a weird mood tonight.”

He glanced over at Demyx. “...I suppose so.” A pause. “Do you feel grown up?”

He raised a hand to touch his cheek. “In some ways, yeah. Others, not so much. I feel like it’s acting, most of the time.”

“...I do, too. I’ve  _ acted _ like an adult for so long. To actually  _ be _ one, is, well.” He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “...Funny, to say the least.”

“You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I’m many things, but “adorable” is not one of them.” Ienzo sat up. Demyx touched his shoulder.

“I beg to differ.” He kissed him softly. 

Ienzo laughed a little. “You’re one to talk.” They stayed there for a moment, their foreheads barely touching. “I don’t suppose you have any plans tonight?”

“Nothing… pressing.” He smiled. “Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to stay. If it’s all the same.” He grasped the hand that was touching his face. 

“I think I can do that.”

“Oh, can you? I’d hate to be a burden.”

Demyx laughed. “Well… I might have to move around one or two things.” Ienzo kissed him. He turned slightly, rolling his hips a little and easing Demyx back down onto the bed. A flush of anticipation washed through him. “This is… new,” he said.

He brushed his lips against Demyx’s throat, the just-healed bruises there. “Do you mind?”

“No… uh, by all means…” Suddenly it was very hard to breathe. He was kissing him so  _ slowly _ , sending a chill through him. Demyx pulled him a little closer, running his hand down Ienzo’s back. Ienzo straddled him, grasping at his hair and only deepening the kiss. He could feel himself getting hard again. If anything, seeing Ienzo become more comfortable with this was only more of a turn-on. “Do whatever you want.”

“What  _ do _ I want with you?” he asked. Demyx could feel him shaking a little. 

He reached down to touch Ienzo, the smoothness of his chest, taking his dick gently into his hand. Demyx heard him gasp and felt him grasp at him, too. 

“I think,” he said breathlessly. “Can I try that again? What we… did before?”

“You think I’ll say no?”

He cupped Demyx’s face for a moment. "Do you happen to know where it went? The--?"

Demyx sat up a little and looked at the tangle of sheets. "That is a  _ good _ question."

Ienzo got off of him momentarily as they both looked for it. Finally Demyx found the lube in a fold at the foot of the bed. "How did  _ that _ happen?"

"For two observational people, we forget so quickly," Ienzo said, with a sigh. "Fascinating, how this all changes thinking. A brush of lust and it all goes out the window."

Demyx chuckled. "Do you mind?"

He smiled. "Not at all." He straddled him again. He kissed Demyx once. "If anything, that's the appeal."

"Ouch, and not because I have a good dick game?"

Ienzo shrugged. "Well, that too," he said, taking Demyx's cock back into his hand.

He stifled the small sound in his throat. The lube was cool against his hand, making Ienzo's skin seem all the warmer by comparison. He slid his fingers in slowly, noting with gratification the way his eyes rolled slightly. He leaned up a little and kissed him, the softness of the scars along Ienzo's shoulder and throat. 

He pressed a little harder against Demyx's hand. "Okay, I think--"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Ienzo lubed him delicately. "I used to be almost afraid to touch you," he admitted.

"What? Why?"

"A fear of… doing things wrong, I suppose." His touch was almost maddening. "My own body was alien enough--much less someone else's."

"And now?"

He took a quick breath. "Truthfully--you feel like home."

Ienzo shifted his weight slightly, forward enough so that Demyx could ease into him. Demyx could understand what he meant--the way he felt around him, the soft subtleties of his reactions--it made his heart ache with a sudden fullness. He took Ienzo slowly, grasping for one of his hands and holding it tightly. 

Ienzo's eyes were shut, and he breathed shakily. Demyx chanced a kiss and felt him respond, his tongue brushing against his lower lip. "...bear with me," he said, with difficulty.

Demyx had to resist the urge to squirm. "What's up?"

"I want to try taking things… slow." There it was, the slight disconnect between his speech, one of the ways Demyx was learning to measure his pleasure. 

"How slow?"

"Like…" Ienzo let go of Demyx's hand and rested them on his shoulders. "Do you want to sit up a bit? Kind of--"

It took a bit of doing, the way they were attached, but he settled against the headboard. He felt Ienzo's thighs against his hips, tight and tense and delicious, and he shivered. 

"You feel good too," Ienzo admitted. He kissed him once, and rocked his hips a little, a slight and subtle feeling, less intense than usual. But for some reason this was effective, this  _ almost _ feeling, and Demyx heard his breath catch. 

He shifted his own weight, falling into a sort of rhythm with him. It occurred to him all of a sudden why they called it  _ making love _ ; not necessarily about the orgasm, but about the getting there. He grasped at Ienzo's wrist. "You know what you're doing," he said breathlessly. 

"Not every experiment ends in failure," Ienzo retorted, moaning a little. He rested his forehead against Demyx's, and they breathed and moved together, steady and gentle. The pleasure was gradual, a slow burn under his skin, making him shake. He had to resist the urge to quicken.

"You could--I think--" Ienzo said, but he bit his lip and was unable to finish the sentence. 

Demyx pushed into him a little harder, feeling the knot inside his stomach tighten a little. "Like this?"

"Yes." 

He gripped at Ienzo's thighs, allowing himself to unravel a little, thrusting into him with less restraint. He was feeling faint, the knot growing still tighter. He reached for Ienzo's dick and heard him gasp. Demyx stroked him through it, the soft noise and look on his face only bringing him closer. It seemed almost like they came at the same time.

It wasn't intense, insofar as these things go, but rather a slow, long lasting warmth under his skin. Demyx loosened his grip on Ienzo and kissed him. Ienzo was breathing hard, and it seemed to take him a moment longer than usual to regain his bearings, to ease off of him. Ienzo lay down. Demyx wrapped his arms around him. "You alright?" He asked. 

"I… need a moment," he said.

Demyx settled more comfortably against the sheets. "Sometimes it seems like you feel more than I do," he admitted. "It's… it's pretty hot to see."

"Not… more," he said, with difficulty. "Just… differently. Hold me?"

Demyx obeyed and pressed a kiss against his sweaty temple. 

"Give me a few minutes, and then I'll--"

"Rest, babe. We have nowhere to be."

"Babe?"

"Does it bother you that I call you that?"

"No. I am… unused to such things. A  _ lot _ of things, it seems." He shivered, and Demyx tugged the comforter over him.

"I used to barely be able to kiss you. I'll take this."

"Hm." He took Demyx's hand, and he could just barely feel the vestiges of the lube. He listened to Ienzo breathe. "You're alright?"

"Yeah. If anything, I'm hungry."

"I left some nonperishable things in the cupboards. I'll make something when I've caught my breath."

"Would you want to go out? On me."

"That would require getting dressed, and then walking all the way to town."

"...Don't say I didn't offer." He traced small circles against Ienzo's back. "You've thought of everything?"

"Best use that part of my brain before it atrophies away. I like the idea of the long game with you."

"The cult of domesticity?"

He snorted. "Hardly. We've  _ been _ in a cult. This is not even close." Ienzo sat up. 

"Bitter about it?"

Ienzo pulled his hands through his hair in a vain attempt as fixing it. "Moreso than I used to be," he admitted. "Now that I  _ have _ things to live for, I realize how… truly depraved the situation actually was. But… had the cards not fallen the way they had, we wouldn't be here, would we? That makes it worthwhile."

Demyx smiled. "...Gay."

"Forgive me for trying to be earnest." He picked up his underwear and shirt from the floor and put them on. "...Do you… label yourself so?"

Demyx propped himself up. "...Actually I'm bi," he said. 

He blinked a little. "My own sexuality is so aqueous I forgot there were words for such things."

"You don't have to call it anything."

"...I suppose not. Honestly, the notion of being attracted to more than one person, let alone more than one gender… is boggling."

Demyx laughed. "Guess I should be flattered it was me, then."

Ienzo paused, fiddling with his buttons. "It doesn't… bore you? To be with only me?"

Demyx frowned. "Now you're talking like a crazy person."

"I suppose so." He sighed. "I'll be honest with you, Demyx. I'm a mess."

He leaned over to kiss him. "But you're my mess. Let's eat."

* * *

He slept heavily, like the dead. Demyx woke up feeling a bit sore, the sunlight coming into the room at a disorienting new angle. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his face.

"I'm sorry--I forgot to mention the curtains," Ienzo said.

"It's fine--I'm already up." He exhaled heavily. Ienzo was on his stomach, looking through god-knows-what on his phone. "What's that?"

"I figured I should try to catch up on  _ some _ work," he said. "Ansem wants me to do some debugging, but his code is… a nightmare. So then I was trying to gather the motivation to get up and take a bath, but…" He shrugged. "It  _ is _ nice not to have to race out of bed."

"You're allowed to be lazy once in a while, you know," Demyx said. He turned onto his side. 

He sighed. "I know. It feels… odd."

Demyx touched his cheek. "Why don't you put that down for a little while?"

He smirked. "You're insatiable."

"Hey, for the record  _ you're  _ the one who wanted everything yesterday." He kissed Ienzo.

"I'm sure my morning breath must taste just lovely," he muttered. He set the phone aside and pulled Demyx close.

There was a comfort in this, in not having to hurry. He tangled his hands in Ienzo's hair, garnering a little bit of a laugh. He felt Ienzo's tongue slide into his mouth, familiar and slight. He let his hand drift over his hip. Ienzo grasped at his shoulder and pulled Demyx on top of him. 

They kept kissing, languid and lazy, lacking the sort of desperation that came from their earlier intimacy. They hardly ever got to simply  _ make out _ and enjoy one another's company, so for a while they did just that. Ienzo's hands tangled in his hair; Demyx felt one slide down his back to cup his ass. "Whoa," he said, without meaning to.

"Sorry, was that--" Ienzo began.

"It's fine, you… you usually don't touch me there."

"I… I know things haven't been… fair," he said, and bit his lip.

Demyx touched his cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You should only do what you're ready for."

"Well. Now that I have more space…" He trailed off, blushing, and then kissed him. 

Demyx let him explore, and feeling his hand so close to that spot made him tremble, his dick hardening against the sheet. "Did you want to… do anything? Or…"

"I…" There was a flush bright in his face. "Could you…" His eyes were raw, but there was also such hesitation.

"What?" Demyx asked softly. 

He squirmed. "Can you go down on me?"

He blinked a little. This was all taking some getting used to; but not in a bad way. "Yeah… sure. Whatever you want." They didn't do this that often, for whatever reason. He kissed Ienzo, trailing his lips down and farther down, along the inside of his thigh. Demyx took him into his hand, letting him get fully hard, and eased his mouth over the tip. He heard Ienzo gasp, his hips jutting up.

This was so much more intimate even than sex; it was something that required a complete willingness to give. He felt like he was getting better at this, if the noises he heard meant anything. He'd be lying if he said this didn't feel good; it was so strange, but yet so intoxicating to hold Ienzo like this. Demyx took his time, running his tongue slowly against the shaft. He wanted to make him work for it. Ienzo grasped at his hand, squeezing tightly. Demyx pressed a little bit harder into the mattress, trying to resist the urge to touch himself. Seeing Ienzo unraveling like this was almost too much to handle.

"I'm going--" Demyx heard him say, but before he could pull away he felt it happen, that subtle twitch as he came, warmth and salt. "I'm sorry, Demyx. I'm so--"

He wiped at his mouth. "It's okay," he said, "really. I kind of… wanted to know what it was like."

Ienzo's face was flushed, embarrassed. "You're sure?"

He smiled. "It's not a big deal." His hand, curled in the sheets, trembled.

"Come here," Ienzo said. "I'd… repay the favor, but you've been inside me, and--"

"It's a little gross." He smiled twitchily. He returned to Ienzo's level and felt his hand close around his dick, stroking softly. Ienzo kissed his face, his throat. Demyx couldn't help but press against his hand, already on the verge. After a moment or so he caved, a shock flooding his system. 

They held each other, coming down slowly. "I should like to… take a bath," Ienzo said. 

"Yeah… me too," Demyx said. "We've… done a lot."

"Would you like to go first?"

He looked up. "Maybe we could go… together?"

He sighed. “As appealing as that sounds, I feel like I… need a few minutes to unwind.”

He pressed his lips against Ienzo’s forehead. “Sure. I’ll go. Get your shit together.”

“...Always,” he mumbled. “There should be towels in the cabinet inside.”

Once Demyx was in the water, he had to admit Ienzo had a point. He felt oddly shaky, like he couldn’t fully process everything that had happened yesterday and this morning. He healed the new bruises along his throat and washed himself off, sweat and sex dissolving into something like normalcy. His heart felt stripped bare, raw and tender, like it had often in the early days of their relationship. He tugged his hair into a rough approximation of what it normally was and got dressed. He left the bathroom, and for a moment he and Ienzo held eye contact. “I should… check in with Aerith,” he said lamely.

“And I should try to work on this code. Wish me luck. I’ll need it.”

Demyx leaned over and kissed him once. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“We can… reconvene.” He smiled a little. 

“Yeah… that sounds nice.” He waved and left, treading thoughts of the future.


	24. Unsettled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troubled by the lack of purpose, Ienzo attempts to dispose of papers of the past, only to end up caught within it.

Ienzo was feeling restless. This was not an unfamiliar feeling, but rather one that had snuck up on him with increasing frequency. He felt as if he were at his wit’s end.

The garden was done, finished, left behind were empty gaps that made him realize that after all this time he  _ still _ wasn’t sure who he was. It was something like existential agony. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, yet sleep eluded him. So did any notion of rest. He found himself, again, missing the days when thoughts would unravel so cleanly; he felt nothing but tangles, and his feelings resembled even less. 

_ I feel as though I’m back at square one, _ he wrote early one evening. This sensation stuck with him.  _ What awful, horrifically boring waffling. _ It certainly didn’t make him good company. Worse still than was that everyone  _ else _ seemed to be in good spirits. He found himself dealing with another type of illusion; feigned laughter, a neutral expression, cheer and chatter where there should be none.

Not many seemed to notice this shift, and for this Ienzo was both incensed and grateful. Only Demyx did, but he was far too busy and exhausted from his own work (oh, to have the certainty of a calling); Ienzo just said that he was tired and that was all.

It did not feel good to lie to him.

But truthfully, how  _ did _ he define this feeling? Was it the weight, the numbness of depression? He wasn’t so sure. Mostly, he felt the slickness of anxiety, like acid along his veins despite medication. He felt trapped within his own heart, within a remorse that was supposed to have eased. Would he carry this his whole life?

Did he want to?

Ienzo wanted to live more than anything. It was a desire that was nearly painful. He needed to get this feeling out of his body somehow. 

“I don’t suppose you have anything you seek to get rid of?” he asked Even. “I was purging my papers in an attempt to get organized.”

“What are you disposing of?” He seemed distracted; he had a new project to keep him occupied, studying the long term impacts of darkness on trauma and the body. It was worthwhile work, and seemed to have reconnected Even with the real world.

“Nothing that hasn’t already been digitized and archived.”

Even gestured vaguely to a pile of file folders in a crate by the door. “I suppose you must need something to fill your days now, then.”

Ienzo paused, and just barely turned back. “That,” he said, “is putting it mildly.”

“Why don’t you continue your studies? It’s been a long enough time. They’ve kept you busy with such frippery.”

“...I would not call it that.”

He shrugged. “Most people your age seem to get caught in crises of existence. I should hate to see you become stagnant.”

Ienzo considered the irony of this. “I won’t--no less than you, anyway.”

Even scowled. “Go on then, will you? I need to concentrate.”

“Certainly.”

He took his papers to a courtyard, one shielded from the wind. What was left didn’t seem like much; Ansem had already shredded a majority of it, and the strings of paper sat heavily against the stone. For a moment he ran his thumb along the matchbox in his pocket. What was the point of this? He withdrew his hands and looked at them. It took a little bit of doing--magic was so much harder than it used to be--but before long he held a small flame in his palm. He studied the color of it, the bright red and orange. He picked up one of the pages and held a corner into his hand, watching it disappear into smoke. 

It didn’t take long for the mess to burn. Curious, how quickly things could be destroyed. Ienzo watched the flames, perched on the lip of a derelict fountain. It didn’t make him feel much better, but it made him feel no worse. He nursed the brunt of a headache idly. 

“...An attempt at catharsis?” He heard over his shoulder. Ienzo turned and saw Dilan facing him, his face alight with bemusement. 

“I suppose. I figure there’s no need to keep this all, not when we have it in the computer.”

To his surprise, Dilan sat next to him. “Is it a pleasure to burn?”

Ienzo rolled his eyes at the reference. “Not quite. Good to know that I have  _ some _ magic left, however small.” His head ached dryly, insistently. There were a few moments of silence; the fire cracked and popped a little, emitting some sparks. “You needn’t worry, I’ll clean up all the ash once it’s over.”

“...Saves me a bit of work. Yes. Our list of tasks seems to grow by the day.”

Ienzo glanced over to him. “...Does it?”

“Someone’s got to make this place habitable. And that committee is scattered enough as it is. I’d  _ hoped _ Demyx’s membership in it would garner us some resources, but they seem to never have anything to spare.”

“...Well, town  _ is _ growing. This place isn’t exactly a priority when we're the only ones who live here.”

“It was once beautiful,” Dilan said. “A shame, all of this finery, crumbling.”

Ienzo blinked quickly, feeling a touch dazed. “...Like so many things,” he mumbled.

“Are you alright?” 

He forced a smile. “Oh, yes. Magic tires me. That’s all.”

“Are you certain? I know there was some--hesitation, as to whether or not to let you--”

“I am a grown man. Demyx and Even do not make decisions for me.” His tone came out sharp.

Dilan pursed his lips. “Of course you’re right.”

Ienzo shoved his hands back into his pockets, feeling cold now. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m more tired than I thought.” The pain in his head throbbed in time with his pulse. “This has nearly burnt itself out. I'll get to it in a few hours when it's all cooled.”

“Nothing nearby to burn,” Dilan said. “It feels nice to sit, admittedly. I feel as though I haven’t stopped moving all morning.”

He stood, and had to fight not to stumble at the sudden wave of dizziness. He clutched his head, felt at the space under his nose. No blood. Surely there must be something  _ else _ wrong with him?

He heard gravel crunch as Dilan stood. “Ienzo?”

“I’m fine,” he said, but it sounded weak. “It’s just a little--”

Abruptly, his knees gave out, his vision darkening for a moment. When he came to, Dilan’s jacket was under his head. “Yes, you’re just  _ fine _ , aren’t you,” he spat. “Do you always feel this need to lie?”

Ienzo was still reeling. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“Someone has got to take a look at you, and he seems to know what he's doing. You’re not well.”

He tried to sit up, only to have Dilan ease him back down. “He’s going to kill me,” Ienzo said dazedly.

Dilan laughed. “Nothing like young love, is there? Ienzo? Ien--”

The smell of something bitter, and a touch of something cool on his cheek. “Oh thank god,” Ienzo heard. His eyelids felt leaden. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes…” He mumbled. He forced his eyes open. Demyx was crouched over him, one hand taking Ienzo’s pulse. He looked flushed; he must have ran here. The pain in his head was so intense as to be almost unnoticeable. “I… I’m sorry.”

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I… I cast one small fire spell… that’s all.”

Demyx rested a hand against his forehead. “You’re stable,” he told Ienzo. “It seems that the magic triggered a migraine--”

“Oh, is that all?” Ienzo muttered.

“When Dilan said you blacked out I--I figured…” He turned redder. “You’re going to be okay. Drink this.” He offered him a canteen. Whatever was inside was sour, and he flinched. “It’s for the pain.”

It did seem to help, but made everything a bit foggy. “Do you need help with him?” Dilan asked.

“No, I got it.”

Humiliation washed over him, and he felt his eyes water. “I can walk.”

Demyx hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes… just let me--” He sat up, the dizziness worsening. 

“Oh, no. Let me carry you. I’m sure you can do it, it’ll just suck major ass when you feel like this.”

“No,” he snapped. “No.”

Demyx blinked. “Ienzo--”

Something was unraveling, a hot stab of nausea almost making him double over. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Ienzo pressed a hand to his face, feeling the tears spill over against his will.

“Baby…” Demyx trailed off. “I knew something was wrong. I  _ knew _ it.”

“...I shall… leave you some privacy,” Dilan said. “Call if you change your mind.”

Demyx pulled Ienzo close. He felt like he could barely breathe, clinging to him with a pathetic sort of desperation. Demyx stroked his hair. “What’s _really_ going on?” He asked. 

“Nothing,” Ienzo insisted. “That’s the issue, there’s  _ nothing _ wrong and I still feel this way.”

He kissed his cheek and handed him a handkerchief.

“I feel… purposeless,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m lost… I’m so used to… moving forward, to having a goal.”

Demyx wiped a tear from Ienzo’s face. “Do you think this could also be some kind of sadness?”

He sniffled. He was a bit woozy. “How so?”

“It’s… weird,” he said slowly. “Maybe this is how you’re letting go of it.”

“By feeling like garbage?”

“You took on so much pain that wasn't yours. Mine, the Heartless'. It has to come out sometime. Using magic could've triggered it.”

Ienzo touched his chest with a trembling hand. “...You may be right. These emotions… didn’t feel connected to me.” Such strange permutation of power.

“Let it go,” Demyx said gently.

“Cry it out?” he asked bitterly.

“If you have to.” He sat and crossed his legs. “Come here.”

Humiliation broke through the weird cool stillness within him. He let himself be pulled close, breathing in Demyx’s smell and the scent of ash, water oozing down his cheeks. “It’s been months,” he hiccuped. “I haven’t the slightest idea why this is happening  _ now _ .”

“You’re good at pushing things away.”

“Deluding myself, you mean?” He was trembling. 

“Maybe you weren’t ready.”

For a moment anger nearly broke through him, but he deflated. “...Maybe not,” he conceded. “It is so… strange… I feel like I’ve made some leaps and bounds, and yet, my heart is so tender… infantile, if you will.” He hated the way he sounded, thick and poorly. A thin, sharp pain redoubled behind his eyes. “You know I used to feel them, when I was younger.”

“The victims?”

His body was leaden. “Yes. I could  _ hear _ them, even when I was nowhere near the lab. For whatever reason, I always had an acute sensitivity to darkness. Is it because I was nearly one of them?”

Demyx’s arms around him tensed just the slightest. “...You were?”

“Yes. I never… told that story?” The tears continued to run, cool and distant. “They were… keenly interested in the hearts of children. And I was… there. You have to admit it’s quite utilitarian of them." The ache in his heart was lessening, bleeding out. "I think this connection is fading.”

“Good,” he said woodenly. “But they… they never--”

Ienzo took some of his own weight back. He shook his head. “We became Nobodies first.” He touched his chest, the space above his heart. “I suppose that in and of itself was an experiment.” He could taste salt, when he spoke. “The slightest twitch of power, and it all comes up,” he muttered. “I am so very… tired. Demyx?”

His jaw was clenched tightly. He grit his teeth.

“Don’t hold it against them. We’ve all done bad things in our lives.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“...I’ve spent enough time dwelling on it,” he said tiredly. “What good would anger do? They’re in pain as well.”

Demyx took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he seemed to have composed himself somewhat. “Do you want to go home?”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

* * *

It took a long while for the tears to stop and the ache to fade, but once it was all over he felt lighter. He figured that settled it. Time to stop feeling sorry for himself and move on. The past was the past; nothing left to be done. He would study, pull the pieces of himself back together one by one. And then whatever happened next. No point fretting about it. Easier said than done, Ienzo knew, but at the same time it was completely necessary. Once he was feeling more himself, he might work with the committee. One day.

But all there was was the present.


	25. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx meets someone who also has an ancient legacy, and comes to a realization about his past.

The day Aqua visited them was warm and sunny, probably the last really nice day of the summer. While he didn’t show it outwardly, Demyx could tell that Ienzo was excited. He’d been reading less about the sciences, more about magic and magic theory. The titles he read were more of a guide to his mood than the expressions on his face, Demyx was learning.

Demyx, on the other hand, was an anxious mess.

Maybe seeing Ienzo collapse and writhe in pain had traumatized him more than he thought. He was healthy and well now, and though Demyx knew logically that Ienzo  _ would _ be fine, in Aqua’s very capable hands, Demyx asked if he could come along, “you know, to watch.” And to be emergency medical assistance. He bolstered this idea by adding, “I think it might help me with my healing, to learn about the other aspects of magic.” This was sufficient enough distraction.

They met her down on the outskirts of town, where the city hesitantly gave way to open expanses of rocks. Demyx had never spoken to Aqua, at least not more than superficially via their phones. She was taller than Demyx expected, and smiled easily. “It’s been so long since I’ve been here,” she said to greet them. “It was so pretty when we flew over. I think soon things will be back to the way they were.”

Ienzo smiled. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Ven was getting a little stir crazy anyway, so it’s good for us to get out of there every now and again.” She shook Ienzo’s hand, then looked to Demyx. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person.”

“...You too,” he said.

“Are you also my student?” she asked, a playful smile on her face.

“I wanted to watch. There’s not much going on today.” He shrugged, and felt bad for lying.

“Well then, watch away. Alright. Maybe you should come over here, Ienzo, where the light’s better.”

Demyx sat and rested on the stone. For a long while Aqua and Ienzo just  _ talked _ , and Demyx realized that there probably wouldn’t be much physically going on in this lesson. He relaxed a little, and looked at Kingstagram for a little while to kill the time. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t appreciate any impromptu concerts. 

“Oh, hey. I was hoping you’d be here.” The voice was familiar-yet-not, and Demyx’s head snapped up. 

The name caught under his tongue.  _ Roxas. _ No, this wasn’t Roxas, of course. He was smiling too hard to be Roxas. Ven just looked like him. Or did Roxas look like Ven? A spool of memory threatened in him, but before he could puzzle why, the boy reached for his hand. 

“I’m Ventus. Call me Ven. I don’t think we’ve actually really met.”

“...No. Not really.”

The boy plopped down next to Demyx. He couldn’t help but stare. The resemblance was uncanny, but the way they bore themselves was not; Ven’s posture was much looser and more open than Roxas’s, and his eyes were just a touch closer to green than Roxas’s blue. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m having some wicked deja vu right now,” he admitted.

Ventus laughed. “That’s okay. I know you worked with Roxas. It still freaks me out too, a little.”

Demyx tried to smile. “You said you were hoping to run into me.”

Ven tapped his fingers into the dirt. “Well, I guess I had some questions.”

“About Roxas? I don’t think I’m the best authority on that. You should ask Lea or Xion. Or, like, Roxas himself.”

Ven shook his head. “Ienzo told me you’re from the past. Like fairy tale times.”

There it was again, that itchy sensation in the back of his mind, uncomfortable and almost painful. “Uh, yeah. I am.”

“And that you also remember it.”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I… I do.”

Ven hesitated, his look darkening somewhat. “I’m from then too. That’s what Chirithy told me.”

Something like a pained noise left his mouth. The memories washed over him, pieces he hadn’t previously remembered clearly with the battering ram of trauma. “You were one of the union leaders,” Demyx gasped. “After--”

“After the first war,” Ven admitted sadly. “You really remember everything before that?”

“Yeah.” His heart was beating so fast. “Do you… do you remember any of it?”

“It feels like a dream, mostly,” Ven said. “Like… I  _ almost _ remember, I can see it in my head, but there’s… there’s nothing. Chirithy has been helping me with that. I want to know who I was. And how it made me who I am now. You know?”

“I do know.” Demyx was reeling. “I thought I… I was the only one left.” With Lauriam, Elrena, and Luxord’s Somebody missing in action, he was all alone, at least in that sense.

Ven shook his head. “You know, I  _ almost _ think I remember you,” he said. “You were in Aced’s union, and then--”

“Ephemer’s,” Demyx said. It was all so hazy, so weird, as if it were physically hard to remember. Which it was, because the Foretellers had overwritten it all; both sets, actually. Perhaps it was only Ienzo’s magic that gave him access to this. 

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” Ven said. His eyes were watery. “We wanted to take that pain away--She said it was the right thing to do--”

“It’s not your fault, Ven. My mind’s probably just weird.”

He sniffed. “I know.”

“...You said Chirithy is helping you. You still have one?”

Ven frowned. “You don’t?”

“They were… killed.” He’d been so overwhelmed when his memories returned that he never properly mourned that loss.

“I’m sorry.” He seemed at a loss for what to say. “Do you want to see them?”

“I think I do.” 

“Alright. Can you come out?” Ven asked the open air.

There was a puff of white smoke… and there they were.

The Chirithy looked exactly like Demyx remembered. Its blue, quasi-embroidered eyes. Its shorn gray fur. 

Demyx felt tears against his face, hot and insistent.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you okay?” the Chirithy asked.

“Yeah, it’s just… it is so good to see you. I didn’t think I’d ever see one of you again.”

They were nonplussed. “Well I’m here now.”

He laughed. “I guess you are.”

They toddled over to him. “I remember your Chirithy,” they said. “We were… we were good friends.”

“I miss them.”

“I do too.” They seemed to think for a minute. “But don’t be sad! Think about how amazing it is that we’re all here together now.”

“I guess it is something.” He dabbed at the tears. “Ienzo would say it’s mathematically impossible.”

“Not much is impossible if you’re determined enough,” they said.

Demyx nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

They must’ve talked for hours.

The more he spoke with Ven, and with the Chirithy, the clearer things were becoming. Hidden in all the pain were odd moments of joy, friends in common. They reminisced about the old worlds, talked at length about the Foretellers, the way Ven's eyes would flash as the pieces came together. Demyx didn’t realize how much time had passed until a shadow fell over them.

“Look at you two, getting along like a house on fire,” Aqua said. She smiled. “Ven… is something of a friend collector.”

Ven shrugged. “We have a lot more in common than we thought.” 

Ienzo joined them. He was a bit mussed, a bit sweaty, and Demyx stood. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“No headaches? No chest pain?”

He squeezed Demyx’s hand. “I assure you I’m fine. I told Aqua about the situation.”

“She’s nothing if not practical,” Ven added.

She rolled her eyes. “Only because I lived with you two goofs for so long.”

Demyx noticed Ienzo’s gaze, which had fallen onto the Chirithy sleeping on Ven’s lap. He caught Demyx’s eye, then nodded once in understanding.

“Are you two hungry?” Aqua asked. “We’re taking a dinner break.”

* * *

Aqua and Ven stayed for little over a week. There was plenty of room for them at the castle, and Demyx found they were more known than he thought--Aeleus and Dilan both recognized them. Even shared the same fascination with Ven as he previously did with Demyx, running his DNA. Seeing it there, on paper, that they were from the same time--that this wasn’t some huge lie he’d subconsciously come up with--felt weird, to say the least. 

Demyx’s paranoia about Ienzo’s health had thankfully been misplaced--Aqua was exceedingly cautious. There were a few days in that clearing of centering exercises, days where he and Ven continued to get to know each other. Sometimes the Chirithy also hung out with them, but for the most part Chirithy did what they wanted.

“I’m bored,” Ven said after the third day or so of this. “Come on. Let’s spar.”

Demyx froze. “What?”

“It’ll be fun!” he insisted.

“Fun.” Demyx shook his head. “I’m okay, thanks.”

Ven frowned. “We wouldn’t hurt each other.”

“I know, I know that. I just. I try not to summon it if I don’t have to.”

Ven sat back down in the dirt, thinking hard about this. “Why?”

“I don’t… I don’t like it.”

The more he tried to explain himself, the more Ven seemed confused.

“It’s just…” Demyx swallowed some excess spit. “I can’t help but associate it with violence. With people dying. I didn’t get to forget, like you. I didn’t have a Master Eraqus.”

Ven thought about this for a long time. “It’s like… any other symbol,” he conceded. “Like… it’s an object that could be awful or great, or just in the middle somewhere. But it… it  _ is _ part of you, whether you want it to be or not.”

Demyx felt his eyes watering and blinked it back. He was  _ not _ going to cry in front of a sixteen-year-old. Again.

“I think you can make it into something good,” Ven said. “Another part of yourself that’s worth liking, instead of ignoring. You know? And that doesn’t mean you have to ever summon or use it.”

He said it so simply, but to Demyx it was a revelation that months of therapy hadn’t been able to penetrate. “Oh god, you’re right,” he said. He’d been working too hard to ignore his past, to write it off, to create himself without it. But he just  _ couldn’t. _ “Wow.”

Ven cocked his head. “You okay?”

“No, I’m… I’m good, actually. It’s just…” He chuckled weakly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to tell me that.”

He smiled. “Happy to do it.”

Demyx glanced over to Ienzo and Aqua, and found Ienzo staring back at him, a simple fire spell crackling around his hands. He gave him a thumbs-up, and Ienzo grinned. 

It seemed like they’d both found something they’d needed.


	26. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo gathers the stories of the survivors and presents them to Even. The effects of the darkness linger.

Even turned the manuscript over in his hand, as though feeling the quality of the paper. “I never pictured you as a soft scientist,” he said, his tone mostly unreadable.

Ienzo sighed. His vision was cut into odd little slivers; he wasn’t quite used to his new glasses, his eyes scrambling to adjust. “You’re going to be frightfully disappointed in me, but I no longer derive any pleasure or fulfillment from so-called “harder” subjects.”

Even stared at him. “Why on earth would I be disappointed?”

“I do recall a period in my life when you found my perusal of fiction a waste of time, when I could be studying.”

He set the manuscript down onto his desk. “We all know what a fool I was, back then. No.” He smiled. “The only way I’d be disappointed in you was if you were to waste your life faffing about. But you were never lazy.” He ran his finger along the paper spine. 

Ienzo frowned a little. “I understand the… trepidation, you might feel,” he said slowly. “And… it is quite harrowing.”

Even’s eyes dropped, became distant. “I can only imagine what the experience has been like, for you.”

“...Gathering these stories?” He thought about it. “Not everyone is… willing to share such dark content of their hearts. I’ve had more than one door slammed in my face.” He knotted his hands together tightly. “I’d hoped that my suspicion regarding everyone’s opinion of us was mere paranoia, but some folks do feel a certain… ire. Not that I can blame them.” Some people hadn’t even let him speak to them; others were more direct. 

“We don’t blame  _ you _ ,” one woman had said. “We know you were Ansem’s ward. But how can we trust that any information we give to you will be used for good? None of it was before.” 

Others, however, had been incredibly welcoming. “If I’ve seen anything in my life, we all deserve second chances,” an older woman had said. “If you’re good in the committee’s book, you’re good in mine.”

The stories flooded his life; the losses, the difficulty to adjust to a new and alien world (had these worlds truly been here all along?), the nightmares, the darkness. Ienzo could not offer them much comfort other than an attempt at catharsis. Any attempt at more psychological treatment would be uncalled for.

Rather than hold their minds in his hands, he now held their hearts; he could only hope he could be worthy of it. “It’s… worth it, to hear their voices,” Ienzo said softly. “We… need to understand the human impact. I don’t mean the numbers.” He forced himself to meet Even’s eyes. “I have… written something of an abridged memoir, myself.”

Even digested this; his expression became pinched. Then, he sighed. “It would only make sense. You  _ are _ one of the victims.”

“Victim and perpetrator in one.” He shook his head slowly, then rolled his eyes. “Seems I am fated to live in dichotomy.” He took a breath. “I have already spoken to the others. It might be valuable to give your own version of events. Not necessarily for publication.”

Even smirked. “For the good of my recovery?”

“Well, yes. You had said you were trying to write and reflect, to delineate a new identity. How is this any different? Your perspective could offer some insight to future generations, when they inevitably look back at all this.” A warm, needling pain bloomed inside of his skull, and he flinched without meaning to.

“...Record keeping,” Even muttered. “Very well. I… will consider it. Are you alright?”

Ienzo touched his temple and winced. “I had hoped these new glasses would lessen my headaches, but that appears not to be the case.”

“You’re still getting them? After all this time?” He frowned.

“Not frequently. You needn’t worry.” He forced a smile. “Take as much time as you’d like with it. I have other copies.”

“I shall, but…” Even gave him a once-over. “ _ Do _ let that fiance of yours take a look at you. Apparently he’s quite competent.”

Ienzo hesitated; his engagement was supposed to have been private, but now it was something of an open secret. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually think you could keep it under wraps? What with Dilan's inane gossiping?”

“Not… secret.” He felt his face reddening. “I don’t see why my personal life should be of interest to anyone.”

“Of course it will be, when we live on top of one another.” Even went to speak, then hesitated. “You are so… very young.  _ So _ young.”

The repetition of it caused Ienzo to blush again, though no longer with embarrassment. “As nobody will let me forget. Heaven forbid I be allowed to make my own choices.”

“I don’t want you to get into something so permanent. You’re  _ barely _ stable yourself.”

Ienzo bit his tongue. He took a breath to calm himself. 

“Even if you were not only twenty-one, you’ve only been with him a year. I realize you are not used to the idea of permanence, but--”

“It was I who asked him.”

This seemed to throw Even. “I’d’ve--figured--”

“Demyx is  _ very _ respectful of my boundaries. He would not force me into anything I did not explicitly ask for.  _ Should  _ it end, we will deal with it maturely. But I don’t see that happening.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke. “Do you truly want this?” Even asked. “Would it make you happy?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I am already happy.” His headache was worsening. “Insofar as I can be, anyway.”

Even considered this. “I suppose I will always see you as a… child,” he admitted.

Ienzo sighed. He tried to smile. “Par for the course when you raise someone.You were always… more my guardian than Ansem. But you must trust I am able to make my own decisions. After all, you--” He felt heat rise to his face. 

“I what?”

“It was not me you came back to Radiant Garden for.”

“You know why I had to leave. Ienzo, I did not  _ want _ to, but who else would’ve--”

“...I know.” He bit his lip. “Still. A note would’ve been appreciated. You needn’t protect me anymore.  _ Especially _ from him.”

Even sighed. “Old habits die hard. Or so the cliche goes.” 

“...Right. Well. I shall leave you to it, then.”

Ienzo made his way home slowly. He figured he was developing a migraine--not nearly so uncommon since he'd been trying to relearn magic, especially so since that stunt with the fire. His stomach churned, and he was experiencing vertigo, both sure symptoms. Demyx had left him medication. It would be a sleepy, wasted afternoon, but he’d be fine. He stumbled; to the untrained eye he probably looked drunk. His body was so unwieldy. He dug in his pocket for his keys and with shaking fingers tried to unlock the door, only to drop them with a rattling that seemed much louder than it actually was. He finally got the door open, and was more relieved than he’d like to admit to see Demyx on the couch, strumming Arpeggio idly, with a dreamy look on his face.

“Hey babe,” he said. “How was your day?”

Beans rubbed at his ankles. The touch was like a shock. He swallowed bile. “Demyx?”

The shift in his expression was immediate; Arpeggio disappeared and he all but vaulted over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel peculiar.” Not quite in his body. Not quite present.

“How?” He took Ienzo’s wrist, his pulse.

He tried to speak, but the words couldn’t come; something seemed to register in Demyx’s eyes. 

“Lay down,” he said gently, easing him to the floor. The hardwood seemed unusually cold. Some wadded fabric was shoved under his head, his vision strange and sheeny. Why was he on the floor and not on the couch, the bed? “This is going to feel warm,” Demyx added. 

Ienzo felt hands on either side of his face. It wasn’t just warm; it was hot, burning, but he was no longer able to tell him anything. 

“...Right,” he heard Demyx say. “Right.”

Ienzo hoped he would explain.

“Hold still,” he heard instead. “Try to relax.”

How could he? He could barely move. The heat moved through his scalp, deep within (the brain didn’t have nerve endings; where was this pain coming from?) and sharpened into agony. 

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said. “Just--”

As suddenly as the pain came, it faded, replaced by heat for what seemed an eternity, until it subsided, a cold so intense he shivered, but at least his body seemed to be under his control again. Ienzo blinked. “What--”

There were tears in his eyes, Ienzo noted. “I’m going to put you to sleep for a little while,” he said thickly. “I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

The heaviness of Sleep overtook him. When he woke, he was in his bed, and it was dark. A thin film of sweat crawled along his skin. Ienzo sat up slowly. He turned on the lamp at the bedside. “Demyx?” His voice was scratchy. He thought he heard something in the bathroom, water. 

The door opened. “Should’ve figured you’d wake up the second I turned my back,” he muttered. “Had to pee for hours and of course--” He bit his lip, then crossed over to Ienzo. His hands were still a little damp when he took his vitals.

“I don’t suppose that was an ordinary migraine,” Ienzo said.

“Try not to talk,” he said, without making eye contact. “There’s not an easy way to say this.”

He felt his anxiety spike.

Demyx sat at his feet. Now that he was in the light, Ienzo noted how terrible he looked; pale, sweaty, and flushed. Exactly how he always looked when he used too much magic, too fast. “So you had a stroke,” he said. He bit his lip.

He knew he was supposed to be quiet, but he spoke without meaning to-- “No, I was just ill--”

“Ienzo, shut up, please.” His eyes were watering, and he blinked, trying to drive the tears away. “The symptoms are… really similar,” he said slowly. “Sometimes you can even mistake a small stroke for a bad migraine. But it feels… different, inside your head. It’s a good thing that I was there, because I was able to fix it right away. Even luckier that I literally was just studying this a few days ago.” He hiccuped. “You’re fine now, but I…” The tears broke free. “How long have we been ignoring what’s been forming inside you? You’ve had headaches for a year. A  _ year _ .” His previous professionalism was slipping, and he held a hand over his mouth, muffling sobs. “It could’ve… triggered a brain bleed, it could’ve--”

“It’s not your--” Seeing his expression, Ienzo cut himself off. 

“Aerith’s coming to look at you,” he said. “In case there’s anything  _ else _ I missed. Try not to… move, or talk, unless you really need to.”

Ienzo settled back against the sheets, reeling. He tried to take Demyx’s hand, to give it a reassuring squeeze, but he was shaken. These headaches of his had all along been part of a larger problem; he’d had a feeling, especially since the last time he’d blacked out. He couldn’t blame them for not understanding what it was. The way the will affected the body was not something  _ anyone _ studied. There was no way to qualify how it worked. Maybe there  _ hadn’t _ been any other signs that could be fixed, no sign a scan could pick up, anyway. 

The door creaked open. “I had to… check on something,” Aerith said to Demyx. “I think I figured it out. You look terrible.”

“I’ve never done the spell before.”

“Have some ether. I’ll take it from here.” She approached Ienzo. Her braid was frizzy, like she’d done it in a hurry. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. I think. Sleepy.” Would shorter, clipped sentences help?

“No pain or numbness anywhere?” She prodded him.

“No.”

“I’m going to look at you. It’s going to feel warm.”

Ienzo flinched, bracing himself for the same terrible heat, but the sensation was gentle.

“Well, there’s nothing  _ left _ ,” she said, to Demyx. “He feels more or less healthy--”

“Then what was this?”

“An accumulation.” She looked at Ienzo. “The people I work with… haven’t normally been through so much.”

He chanced a question. “Like what?”

She drummed her fingers together. “...Permutations of being,” she said slowly. “From darkness, to nothingness, back to light. Putting your body through all those changes… the stress is going to sow seeds that won’t emerge for years. And considering you wore down your will twice… It must’ve exacerbated the symptoms.” Aerith frowned. “Think of it like… a person who really doesn’t take care of themselves. Will you feel it at twenty? No. But suddenly at forty you keel over with a heart attack. I’m hoping--and what I read supports this--that once you reach and get through the crisis point, you won’t have to deal with it again. Essentially reset to zero with magic. Demyx.”

He looked up, drying his eyes.

“You’ve been through the process twice. I want to look at you too. Maybe not now. But tomorrow.” She twirled the end of her braid. “It’s actually kind of… common. So many people here have gone through so much stress, and the darkness, too. Of course that’s going to affect the body.”

“Will I be okay?” Ienzo asked.

She squeezed his hand. “He did a good job. I’ll check in on you regularly, and you tell me the instant you get the smallest headache. But I think you’ll be fine--just get some rest these next few days. Nothing strenuous.”

“My body seems hell bent on destroying me,” Ienzo remarked dryly. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to do a whole lot better,” she said. “Please take it easy. Both of you.”

For a long while after they left they lay side by side on the bed in the dark, trying and failing to get some sleep. Ienzo could hear Demyx trying to stop crying. “I don’t think it would be too  _ strenuous _ to hold you,” he said softly. “Come here.” He rested his head against Demyx’s chest. “I don’t suppose this is the… best time to tell you. Even found out about us. It feels these walls have ears.”

Demyx was still shuddering. “What did he say?”

“About what I expected. That I’m so young to make this decision. But I… what happened today only proves I made the right choice.” He was glad for the dark, the way it hid his face. “I want to have as much time with you as possible. I can’t afford to be cautious.” He could feel his own emotions welling up within. 

“Shit happens,” Demyx said tiredly.

“Exactly.”

“I hope she’s right. For my sanity.” He didn’t say it, but Ienzo sensed it-- _ I can’t keep doing this. _ “But I… I’m excited to be married to you.”

“I am too.”

* * *

Aerith ended up being right; he did not get headaches after it was over, any more than an ordinary person might. His scans came back continually clean. Even and Dilan delved into this new vein of research regarding the effect of darkness and nothing on bodies; it excited them. They hoped to be able to help everyone else who was suffering. It seemed sometimes as though the second they got a hold on how much damage had been done, something happened to make it clear this was only the beginning. This was the nature of recovery. 

Ienzo returned to his normal alcove in the library for some light reading. He found his manuscript on the desk, flooded with sticky notes and, he suspected, suggested edits. He sighed. Even may have been the better critical thinker, but he was not necessarily the better writer.

Lying below this was a composition book, filled with steady, painstaking writing. Even’s story, the beginning of it:  
  
 _The boy, when we took him in, was numb, traumatized; he did not speak. I all but begged him to find a family in town, but his mind was made up, and the small genius became his son. I found myself caring more about the child than I wanted to admit; the others, too, drawn to the glow of his potential._  
  
Strange to read about himself in the third person.  


_ They found him lying facedown in a pool of water after a storm; eighteen or so, strong, his hair a shocking silver. He remembered nothing aside from a name that was to haunt us all--Xehanort.  _

Ienzo flipped through the pages wearily.

_ He seemed to have taken with Ansem’s ward. Ansem figured this may have had something to do with his past--perhaps a forgotten sibling. It was so difficult to get Ienzo to speak; I would not dare take the only easy conversation he had from him. What I did not realize quickly enough was that Ienzo was no friend of Xehanort’s, no pet; he was a puppet. _

Those memories...

_ Ansem was livid when he discovered we’d repurposed our experiments. He, a man who hardly ever raised his voice, chewed out golden boy Xehanort with more vitriol than I'd ever experienced. We were discovering the very building blocks of the soul; didn’t he realize how momentous this was? Ansem always held his ideals above all, up to and including the people in his life. I figured this was more of that frippery. But he was always better at seeing the bigger picture than I.  _

_ I was wrong, and a fool; there was a reason they called him Ansem the Wise. _

Ienzo couldn’t look away; it was like a trainwreck. He realized he’d needed this, to hear what Even had to say. There was so much left to the story.


	27. Committed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Ienzo reach a new phase in their life together.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

Time seemed to be going fast now.

Demyx’s days were filled with music and healing; his nights were full of Ienzo. They tried to keep their engagement to themselves for a while, but given that the census that initiated it all was in the committee’s hands, and that Radiant Garden was still a small town, word seemed to spread quickly. 

But he didn’t expect  _ Ansem _ , of all people, to talk to him about it first. Ansem holed himself up in his work, so Demyx assumed he didn’t get out much; but he was also the deposed king with a fondness for letter writing. And his pen pals loved to talk.

He was hauling laundry down from the roof when Ansem stopped him.

Ansem was looking better now. He’d gained some weight, which had softened his face, and his beard was better kept than it had been; signs he was slowly recovering. Demyx knew he and Ienzo spoke at length about these issues, but Ienzo never told him the details. Frankly, after seeing how upset it made Ienzo, Demyx did not want to hear them.

There he stood, a cup of tea clutched in both hands. “Might I have a word with you?” Ansem asked. 

The man _was_ going to be his father-in-law. He had to play nice. “Uh--sure.”

Demyx followed Ansem back to his quarters, still lugging the laundry basket. The place was cleaner than it had once been, but still in general disorganized. Demyx set the basket down heavily on the carpeted floor. “Tea?” Ansem prompted. “I just made some.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They sat side-by-side at the large mahogany table, which, even with its leaves dropped, was too big for two people. Ansem seemed to be thinking hard about something, but as Demyx pulled for some small talk, Ansem gently interrupted him. “So I’ve heard some news, concerning you and Ienzo. It seems congratulations are in order.”

Demyx stared down at the tea. “Who told you that?”

Ansem chuckled and set down his tea. “When one works closely with the government, you hear a lot of things.”

A warm wave of anxiety broke over him, and he swallowed. “We were… keeping it to ourselves. On the down low.” He felt incredibly awkward. 

“There’s no need to be so embarrassed. I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“Yeah?” Demyx raised an eyebrow. 

“You make Ienzo so very happy. You must know that.”

Demyx shook his head to clear the fog. “I figured you wouldn’t be into it.”

Ansem furrowed his brows. “Why ever not?”

“I don’t know. Any number of reasons. That we’re too young. Or that he’s not ready for something like this. Or that it’s  _ me _ .” He traced a finger around the rim of his mug, tea still untouched. 

Ansem smiled slowly. “You  _ are _ young. But at this point, I believe that you should find whatever happiness you can, for as long as you can have it. You are both your own people, especially Ienzo, and I have to respect that. If he feels he is ready, then he is.”

Demyx nodded, but his anxiety wasn’t quite eased. 

“I realize we have not been… close,” Ansem said. “But even in my tertiary capacity in your life, I have seen you grow. From the day we met, until now… the Demyx you’re so afraid of no longer exists. The fact that you  _ choose _ to be better… it’s enough.”

He bit his lip. “Thank you.”

“Is this what  _ you _ want?”

The question threw him, and he looked up. “Of course I do. I just… I’m not sure what it really is. Or what it  _ means. _ ”

Ansem laughed. “I’m afraid I cannot offer you any advice in that regard. My great love was always my career, and this city. I’m sure you’ll find your way.”

Demyx nodded, and dropped his eyes. “Permanence is still… really weird to me,” he admitted. “For my whole life, I’ve always been bouncing from world to world to world, not able to be a part of one. People kept going in and out of my life. I’ve had to be so selfish for so long. It’s been a little hard to adjust.”

“I can imagine.”

“But it feels… good, you know.” He took a sip of his tea and found it incredibly strong. He took out the diffuser and set it on the napkin Ansem had given him.

“I agree. Coming back into the realm of light--and dealing with all the challenges therein--has been quite a struggle. As I’m sure you’re aware. We can be better, I feel. We can do good things for this world. Hence my journey back into the depths of bureaucracy. With the upcoming creation of the city council...” He shook his head. 

“You really don’t want to be reelected?”

Ansem laughed again, louder this time. “Frankly, my boy, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do  _ less. _ ”

Demyx cracked a smile. 

“There is one power I have left at my disposal though, should you want it.” He seemed to gather himself. “I’d be honored to officiate for you. If you so choose.”

He felt the blood rush to his face. “I’d have to talk to Ienzo about it. But I’m sure he’d love it.”

Ansem patted his hand. The skin was dry, and very warm. “I look forward to getting to know you as my son.”

“Wow,” was all he could say. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a rude way. I’m not used to having family.” Demyx could feel himself tearing up. “I have to, um. Bring that laundry down and meet Aerith for work. But I’ll text you.”

Ansem nodded. “Of course.”

* * *

To Demyx’s surprise, Ienzo was home. He was laying on the couch, curled under a wool blanket, dozing. Demyx’d never seen him nap before, and was tempted to check his temperature. He tried to set his keys down quietly, but the gentle creak of the floor under his feet was enough to make Ienzo stir. “Hey. Sorry,” he said.

Ienzo rubbed at his eyes. “Quite alright.”

“You feel okay?”

“I’m fine. Why is it you ask?”

“You never nap.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up. “I was feeling tired after my studies. I took a page out of your book and decided to  _ rest,  _ heaven forbid. Magic wears me out so much more than I am used to.”

“Believe me, I know.” Demyx sat at his feet. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m sure I will.” He pulled the blanket around himself. “Curious, though, how much more wear it is on the human body.”

Demyx reached for the basket and started to fold what was in it. “Ansem talked to me,” he said quickly.

“Whatever about?”

“He knows. He found out that we’re getting married.”

Ienzo cocked his head slightly. “That so? He did not bring it up the last time we had lunch. I wonder why.”

“I think he was putting out feelers for me. But it was… it was actually kind of a nice conversation. He said…” Demyx took a quick breath. “He looks forward to having me as a son.”

Ienzo softened. “That does sound very nice.”

“There’s something else.” He kept his eyes on his laundry, folding wrinkled shirts. “He said he’d be glad to marry us. If we wanted him to be the one to do it.”

Ienzo seemed to puzzle this for a moment. “We should do something about that, shouldn’t we,” he said.

A bubble of laughter escaped him. “I figured you’d have it all scripted in your head.”

“That’d be characteristic of me. But surprisingly?” Ienzo shrugged. “I am open to the when and the how. I want to be with you. That is all.”

Demyx took his hand and squeezed it. “I know. I don’t need anything fancy. Or big. That sounds kind of embarrassing, actually.”

Ienzo wrinkled his nose. “I agree. Well. According to the law--or the way it used to be, anyway--we’d only need an officiant and two witnesses. So perhaps we ask along Aeleus, Even, and Dilan, as well as Aerith and anyone else you might know. Keep it simple.”

“That sounds good to me.”

Ienzo leaned against him, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Demyx could tell he was starting to think, though, if the look in his eye meant anything. “I don’t suppose you have any customs you might like to bring to it? It’s impolite for me not to consider that as well.”

“I’m honestly not really sure,” Demyx admitted. “I was a kid when I lived there, and with the war, and everything, people weren’t exactly... focused on getting hitched. The only thing I can really remember is the jewelry.”

“Jewelry?”

“Rings. Well, just one each.” He shrugged. “On the left hand. Apparently, there’s a vein that goes to your heart. It’s supposed to symbolize the bond the people have for each other.”

Ienzo was silent for several minutes. Then, “I quite like that.”

* * *

The pieces started to come together, not that there were many of them.

The others reacted with more indifference than Demyx expected; he’d thought they might get as irritated as they did when they first found out he was with Ienzo. Even seemed relatively pleased to receive the news. “You two could use a more tangible sense of stability. This seems to be it.” Though Ienzo admitted later that the man confronted him about it, claiming--what else--that they were too young.

They would keep it simple; the traditional, old words would be good enough. If they had anything more intricate to say, they could do so in private; he didn’t need everyone to see everything about their relationship. Bit by bit, in his spare hours, he let himself compose, trying to give shape and sound to how he was feeling, and what it meant to him. This would be his gift.

Originally, Ienzo intended for this small ceremony to take place in the castle’s nondenominational chapel, but when they went down to tidy it up, they found it was more damaged than anticipated from the Heartless’s reign. Most of the stained glass was shattered, and the Heartless emblem was overbearing. For a moment, as they stood there, Ienzo’s expression was unreadable; then he held up one flaming palm. “Shall we do the honors?” he asked.

Demyx drew his Keyblade. “Right there with you.”

They ended up making an even bigger mess than was there originally, but Ienzo was nonplussed. “It’s worth its weight in catharsis,” he said pleasantly. “Nobody can blame us. It’s for the good of our recovery, after all.”

Demyx bought the rings himself. The vendor at the market was chatty. These bands had once been used as armor, but now that there wasn’t such a need for armor she was trying to sell them as accessories, and nobody was biting. It was the patina, she insisted, which burned the silver in beautiful blues and golds. She offered to polish them for him, but he took them as is (and for much less than they were worth).

Some things were better with their flaws.

He didn’t let Ienzo see them, didn’t even let him try it on, despite Ienzo’s concern that it might not fit. Demyx mentioned they were self-sizing and to please be patient.

The day they were married, it rained.

It wasn’t so much a day they sought with intention, but the earliest point they could round everyone up. They ended up in--where else--the library, because so much of their story was here, and it had the nicest light. 

Truthfully, Demyx wasn’t nervous. Ienzo was the only thing he was really sure of; he had no regrets or concerns. He wore his nicest, cleanest clothes. They joined their friends and family and even as Ansem spoke, Demyx could not take his eyes off Ienzo. He listened to the music of the rain as they were bound for life, an embroidered cloth tied around their joined hands to symbolize that unbreakable bond. 

With a kiss, it was over. They were both passed from hug to hug--even Dilan gave Demyx a warm handshake--and then they were left to their own devices, Ienzo in his lap in one of the armchairs.

“I thought I would feel different,” Ienzo admitted. He traced Demyx’s hand, the new ring that was there.

“Really? Why?”

“I’m not sure. This seems like one of those occasions that is so often considered an achievement. But so many things that were important in stories are… not less important, but less transformative and more complex in real life.”

“Well, we also didn’t get together with this being the end goal.”

“...True. I think that’s why it was so freeing. So easy.” He leaned against Demyx for a few minutes, and he kissed Ienzo’s head. “I… I didn’t want to bear my heart in front of everyone else, but I do have something for you.”

“I do too.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring it with me.” He stood and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

They went home, like they’d done dozens of times. Ienzo crossed over to the small writing desk and pulled out an envelope. It was a thick, rich paper, heavy, the kind that was meant to last.

With a sort of shyness he said, “I suppose you might consider it… my vows. You needn’t read it now.”

“I want to. Is that okay?”

He nodded, a blush coloring his face. “I’ll… I’ll give you some space,” he said. “Aeleus was kind enough to buy dinner for us. I’ll go get it.” He gave Demyx a quick kiss, and left. 

With slightly shaky fingers, Demyx unsealed the letter. He saw Ienzo’s painstaking, perfect handwriting. It looked as though he’d written it with his fountain pen, the ink not so much as smeared. Demyx could already feel emotion rising in him, even seeing something so simple as the date.

* * *

_ To you-- _

_ I’ve thought and wondered for so long how to express everything I feel about you and our journey together. The academic in me says to be concise, but I… can’t. I’m not quite a romantic, but I hope that this can at least touch the surface. _

_ Before we met--or perhaps the way to phrase it is met again--I was still learning how to be, reeling, anxious, empty. I don’t think we were kindred spirits so much as there at the right place and time. I’d tried to accept the fate I’d been given, dismal as it was, but you made me realize this life could be so much more than guilt and trauma. You helped me learn to do something my studies never could--to grow, and to feel, and to start to love this strange person that I am.  _

_ You’ve grown, too, found a maturity I didn’t think possible in a person that was once known for his “stupid, but awesome” ideas. You know how to find the humor and the beauty in things, and that is something I love so much about you. _

_ I had hoped to be eloquent in this letter, but as I sit here trying to write, I realize that words will never be enough to express how I feel. Because I do love you, simply as that, a love that is large and terrifying and so, so beautiful. I want to do and see everything there is with you.  _

_ So perhaps I will be more concise than I thought. _

_ If this love can come from a place of such hardship, I can only wonder what might come of it now that we’re free. There is such beauty in this world and such awe. And I am eternally grateful to you for removing those blinders, for coaxing me so patiently into a world I hid from for so long. _

_ I’m not naive; I know there will be troubles and challenges and arguments over silly things. But I am equally as certain that we will weather it, and be stronger for it.  _

_ I want us to both grow to be the person we both deserve; not for one another, but for ourselves. I know it will happen. It’s inevitable, in this new phase.  _

_ I look forward to these experiences, to these challenges, so long as I can be _

_ Yours always, _

_ Ienzo _

* * *

Demyx set the letter aside, drying his eyes quickly so as to not get the paper wet. He read it again, slowly, imagining Ienzo's face as he wrote it. Demyx folded it back up, held it to his chest for a moment, and placed the envelope in his bedside drawer where it would be safe.

The door opened, and there he was, carrying the bag of food. Demyx was so overcome for a moment that he was frozen. Ienzo set the bag down and knotted his hands.

In three steps Demyx drew him into his arms. "It was…" He was crying again. "I love it. So much."

"I wanted it to be perfect. But I cannot perfectly say how I feel--"

He kissed him. Ienzo relaxed slightly, letting his lips part, but before they could go much farther Demyx drew back. "Before we--can I give you my thing?"

He laughed a little. "Of course."

"You can probably already guess what it is." He sat cross-legged and brought Arpeggio into his arms. 

Demyx knew how Ienzo felt trying to write that letter, understood his need for perfection. The song had become something like an odyssey, crossing the movements of their relationship not so effortlessly--the awkward discordance of their time as Nobodies, resentment shimmering, to their newfound friendship as humans, even that twined through with anxiety and sharp accidentals. Slowly there grew to be comfort there, stability, want… love. And in that love there was growth and healing and hope and so much more that was unexplored. His fingers flew across the notes. Ienzo was right; it was imperfect. But it was what was right for them.

The song ended softly, into the stillness of the rain, and Demyx realized he was breathing hard.

Ienzo looked almost shocked, his eyes wide and watery, and after just a moment he vaulted over to Demyx and hugged him so tightly he had no option but to let Arpeggio disappear. "I guess you liked it," he said. 

"I want to remember it forever."

"Way ahead of you. I sent a recording to you earlier. It probably won't be the same, but--"

He never finished the sentence. He was being kissed, gently and deeply. He helped Ienzo up and they fell back against the bed in a loose tangle. Longing bloomed in him, stronger than ever, and he began to unbutton Ienzo's shirt, pressing his mouth against the skin below it and gratifying in the sound he made. Demyx felt him fumbling at his clothes as well a bit breathlessly until they were both naked. He started to remove his ring, mostly for safekeeping, and heard Ienzo say, "leave it."

They held eye contact for just a moment. Ienzo kissed him, his throat, the soft spot at his shoulder, and as subtly as Demyx could, he dug in the nightstand for lube. Ienzo pulled him down on top of him, running his hands all along Demyx's back and thighs. The type of touch that had so much unsaid.

He brought lube into his hand, pushed a few of his fingers inside of him. Demyx wasn't so focused on the tightness of it as usual, on the anticipation, but felt something much more deeply. Ienzo kissed him mercilessly until finally he couldn't take it anymore. He eased his dick inside of him.

There was something just so gentle about this time, not so quick or so frenzied. He held Ienzo's hand tightly and felt him grasp at his hair. Demyx felt him pushing up against him, and they made love slowly and deeply until finally they both came. 

They held each other for a long time.

The moment was so surreal and yet so mundane. It was growing dark now, rain replaced with a hesitant sunset. “You hungry?” Demyx asked him. 

“Actually, yes.”

“I’ll go heat everything up. Relax, okay?”

He had just stood to gather up his clothes when he felt Ienzo take his hand. He looked at Demyx for a long moment, almost like he might disappear. 

“What is it?”

He smiled. “Nothing. I… reassuring myself, I suppose.”

They had their dinner by the fire in states of partial undress. Ienzo held his glass of white wine, stared at it as though to study it. “...Taking it all in?” Demyx asked.

“Something like that.” He sipped at it. “My heart feels so… full. The word “love” has been tossed around a lot today--”

“It’s our wedding day. That’s kind of the point.”

“...I do feel so loved. And so grateful. I didn’t think I’d ever get here.”

“...Me either,” Demyx admitted. He took a deep breath. 

“There have hardly ever been moments in my life when I was so at peace. This might actually be the first. I’m trying to savor it.”

“Take your time. It seems we have a lot of it now.” Demyx understood. He also felt so full and yet so light. 

“Yes.” He set aside the empty glass and leaned back. Demyx slipped an arm around him. He was feeling sleepy now, the food and wine making him warm. For a moment they were almost completely still, resting with their foreheads touching. “I suppose tomorrow everything goes back to normal.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

Ienzo looked up. “What do you mean?”

Demyx shrugged. “Why don’t we go somewhere for a few days?”

“Where?”

“Where would you  _ want  _ to go? What have you been missing since since we became human?”

He thought about it. “It’s silly. But I… I see it all over Kingstagram--”

“--And he finally gives up on that awful program name--”

“I want to go to the Bistro in Twilight Town. It’s the end of summer there now. I hear there’s a nice beach. I also wouldn’t mind visiting Roxas and the others. That is, unless you’d rather us be alone.”

Demyx felt the blood rush to his face. “We can always make the time.” He kissed him, just barely tasting wine and salt. Ienzo pulled him still closer, curled a leg around him, and for a while they were lost in each other.

“You know. I rather like the sound of that.” Ienzo touched his cheek so gently. "I feel so terribly… greedy, but can I--" He bit his lip. "I want to make love to you."

Demyx felt his face warm. "Yes. Please." 

Ienzo kissed him, and he let his mouth open. It was getting easier to let him take control, to let himself be loved. Ienzo brought him back to bed and curled himself around Demyx, pressing against him in a way that immediately got a reaction. He gasped out loud and felt Ienzo tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Demyx slipped off Ienzo's shirt.

"What do you want me to do?" Ienzo asked. He was breathing roughly, and seeing him so flustered just made Demyx harden more. 

“I want--” For a moment he had to remind himself that this was his  _ husband _ , and that Ienzo really wanted nothing more than to please him. “I want you inside of me?”

He nodded a little. “Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You relax. Let me take care of you.” He stroked Demyx’s cheek and reached for the lube, which was still buried in the sheets. 

Demyx shifted forward, letting his knees part. He caught sight of Ienzo, framed by the firelight, and let himself soften. He felt Ienzo slide a finger into him, and his breath caught in his throat. Anticipation was nearly paralyzing. Ienzo kissed him, brushing along skin and scars with his other hand, and Demyx felt another finger inside of him.

Demyx reached down towards Ienzo’s dick, and felt his hand being taken away. “I mean it,” Ienzo said against his throat. His lips against the soft skin made Demyx shake. He couldn’t see what was happening-- he’d shut his eyes tightly--but he felt Ienzo slipping into him and gratified in the sound Demyx heard him make. “You feel so very--” He kissed Demyx, pulling them still closer and started to move, so gently, almost too lightly, and desire nearly made him squirm.

For all their time together it was still hard to be vulnerable. As much as he trusted Ienzo, the small, traumatized part of him struggled to let go and allow good things to happen.

Ienzo laughed softly. Demyx felt his hair brush against his face, almost catching between their lips as they kissed. Demyx pressed up against him, letting himself feel that need. Ienzo pushed into him with a little less hesitation.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he said, gasping for breath.

“I wanted to see you undone. Can you blame me?” Ienzo asked. 

Demyx was starting to lose coherence, as well as track of his thoughts, becoming so increasingly focused on the push and pull inside of him, a pleasure that was  _ almost _ , and for a moment he tried in vain to hold it back, with only a few seconds to wonder  _ why _ . A wave of warmth broke over him, a feeling so intense he was still for a moment. Ienzo kissed his cheek, his forehead, and after a few seconds or so he heard a gasp as Ienzo came too.

Demyx let his legs fall back against the sheets and pulled Ienzo down to his chest. “Wow,” was all he could manage, still reeling a bit.

“It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?” 

“Hm?”

“Giving yourself over.”

Maybe it was the endorphins or the general emotion of the day, but Demyx could feel himself tearing up. “Yeah. But it felt so…”

“I’m glad.”

“I have to get used to it. I _want_ to. We’re…” A tear broke free. “We’re _married._ ”

“I’m aware.”

A spasm of something like a sob caught in his throat. Ienzo stroked Demyx’s hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m not sad, I’m…” He bit his lip. 

“The pain of losing something painful,” Ienzo said gently. “I know. It’s okay.” He hugged him tightly. “I’m here.”

And he was. And there was something so beautiful and so real in this, that even though letting go of the loneliness he’d melded into his identity was painful, it was a necessary change.

Because he wasn’t alone. They had each other, they had their family.

For once, it felt like nothing was missing.


	28. Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Ienzo go on vacation.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

After living in one place for so long, going off-world felt bizarre. Traveling by gummiship actually made Demyx a bit nauseous, and the soft light of Twilight Town had his eyes scrambling to adjust. He and Ienzo played the part of vacationers from far inland--not completely a lie--coming to the seaside for a few days. They were able to get a room in a cute bed and breakfast a short train ride from the shore. Signing the papers--seeing his new name and struggling to write it fluidly--felt strange. He was used to hiding in new places, not moving through them.

“Newlywed?” the owner, an older woman, asked. 

He felt his face heat. “Still getting used to things.”

She took the paper and the money from him. “I can just tell. I think you and your spouse will like it here. We keep things relaxed. Any closer to the beach and it’s all college students and partiers. Let me show you to your room.” She rattled off a few house rules, no pot, breakfast was at such and such a time, and so forth. The room was actually nothing special--clean, but generic--and here they settled. They hadn’t brought much, hadn’t planned too far ahead. Even though Ienzo claimed to be okay with it, Demyx could feel this irritated his anxiety, so he said, “Come to the balcony. It’s pretty.”

The building was up on a hill (signs called it a mountain, but Demyx had seen so much that it barely qualified). The vestiges of the city were spread out around them, and just barely visible in the distance, the thin blue band of the ocean.

Despite himself, he melted. It’d been so long since he’d been to a real beach or anything like it. The little lakes and springs in the corners of Radiant Garden didn’t count. He felt the pull, and for the first time in a long while he found himself missing his Nobody’s powers. 

Ienzo slipped an arm around his waist. “It  _ is _ nice,” he conceded. “Though I don’t think I could live in a perpetual twilight like this.”

“We’re not here forever.”

“...I know.” He took a deep breath. “Even the air is different. It’s got a different flavor to it.”

“You can relax for a few days. We’re somebody else here.”

“Sweet anonymity.” 

Demyx took out his phone. “Take a picture with me. We have hardly any of us together.”

Ienzo groaned. “Is that really necessary?”

“I want to have it for the future. As a memory. Do you want to look back and realize you’re never in a picture?”

“...That would be ideal, actually.”

“Ienzo,” he whined. “I promise I won’t share it with anyone.”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Alright. If you insist.”

At least the light was flattering. It took some doing to get Ienzo to soften a bit, to not look like he’d swallowed something bitter on camera. Satisfied, Demyx put away the phone. “What do you want to do first?”

Ienzo thought about this, tracing small circles on Demyx’s back. “Well… it’s relatively late, and we had a long flight,” he said slowly. “But I can… think of a thing or two, to fill the time.”

Demyx caught hold of his mood immediately, and felt goosebumps raise along his arms. “Oh?”

He shrugged a little. “We  _ are _ newlyweds. Might as well play the part to perfection. For realism’s sake.”

“Well, in that case.” Demyx pulled the curtains shut and drew him close. “I’d hate to disappoint.”

Maybe he’d never fully get used to this, but at least now they were comfortable with one another, knew what one another liked. He felt Ienzo fumbling at the button of his jeans and he slipped off his shirt. He brought Ienzo gently over to the bed. It was softer than he thought, almost too soft, and they overbalanced, Ienzo’s forehead bumping into his. Ienzo laughed a little.

“Don’t hit your head. You need that.” Demyx kissed him and felt his lips part. He slid his tongue into his mouth, tasting sweetness and salt and something else entirely. Demyx felt Ienzo’s hand creep down between his legs. He couldn’t help but gasp, feeling himself harden. Maybe it was because this stage of their relationship was so new, but he was finding it more and more difficult to control himself when they were alone together.

“Hey,” Ienzo said. “So I was thinking--”

“Another experiment?”

“Not quite.” He kissed Demyx’s throat. “Let me go down on you.”

He laughed a little. “Are you sure?”

“I’m feeling adventurous.”

A flutter of excitement made his heart beat faster. “I’d hate to take that from you.” 

Ienzo kissed him once and then trailed down, bit by bit, each touch so present and alive that Demyx nearly felt faint. The sensation of lips against his inner thigh was bright, lush. He heard himself make a small noise, and another when Ienzo took him into his mouth.

It had taken a while for them to get comfortable doing this, mostly because it was  _ so _ much more intimate than just regular sex. It meant vulnerability, even moreso, which they both struggled with in their own ways. To let go--and trust--was easier now, all things considering, helped along by the way Ienzo moved so  _ perfectly _ against him. Demyx trembled, his hands curled uselessly in the sheets. He could feel his tongue wondering along the tip and shaft, each stroke lighting the nerves on fire. "Fuck," he mumbled.

Ienzo broke away. "Are you alright?"

"Don't stop. Please." There was a certain relief in letting himself come apart. Ienzo started in on him again. The world started to fray a little. "I'm going to--I don't want to--"

Things shifted a little, lips and tongue replaced by hands, and Ienzo came back up to his level. Demyx could feel the hardness of him against his thigh, and for some reason it was this more than anything that tipped him over the edge. Without hesitation, he eased Ienzo down onto the bed. He looked a bit startled.

"I'm sorry--I--" Demyx was still shaking with something like aftershocks. "Do you… do you want it too?"

He nodded, a sharp urgency in his eyes. "Yes."

There was pleasure in this too, in touching the now-familiar planes of Ienzo's body, the places that always seemed to excite him--the scar line on his throat, the softer skin of a nipple, the few centimeters between belly button and hip bone. Demyx touched him gently, stroked his dick to get him fully hard, and took him slowly.

He did like the way this felt, smooth and so alive, and the way Ienzo's thighs tensed around him. Demyx took his time, almost punishingly so if the noises he heard were any indication. By now he could almost always tell when Ienzo was at that edge, the soft vulnerability of it. 

"I want to--" He heard Ienzo say, his eyes were glassy. Demyx pulled away and stroked him through it, gratifying in the flush of warmth against his hand. He lay down next to Ienzo. 

“Was that “realistic” enough for you?”

He laughed a little. “I should say so. We have gotten rather…  _ good _ at it.”

“I mean I’d hope so. Too late to back out now.”

Ienzo took his hand, leaning against his chest. “Bizarre in more ways than one. How… normal life is.”

“You still feel that way?”

“More like my mind is not wired to deal with such things. We’re married, we’re on vacation, we have sex.”

“...Water is wet. What do you mean?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I suppose a rather messy way of saying this all feels like a surprise. In a good way. Receiving good things is getting easier.”

“...Sometimes literally.” He kissed him once, it tasting oddly animal from the blowjob. He sat up. "Let's go," he said.

"Where?"

"Let's go look around town. Get some dinner. I worked up an appetite."

Ienzo flopped against the pillows. "Why don't we stay here?"

"We have all night to stay in bed." How did the people around here determine "night" with no change in the lighting? 

"I should at least like to clean up."

Demyx crossed over to the bathroom. It had a shower; the first he'd seen in a long time. He brushed his teeth quickly and saw Ienzo in the doorway, staring at it quizzically and trying to smooth down his hair. 

"You can go first," he said.

He rinsed his toothbrush. Then, trying to be as casual as possible, "why don't you come with me?"

Ienzo blinked. He turned red. "I'd hate to…" He trailed off. "This feels a little indulgent."

"I think this is the only time in our lives we  _ can _ be this indulgent." He gave him another kiss. "Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"You taste like peppermint." He wrinkled his nose. "I should… I want to say I'm curious."

"Come with me. Play it by ear." He started the water and got in. "Or you can have a free show. Your choice."

Ienzo laughed a little. "Alright."

There was just barely enough room for the two of them. After so long with only bathtubs, the shower felt almost too good. He wet down his hair, trying to savor the feeling. "I've missed this."

"The castle does need some… modernization." Ienzo always would look a little odd with his hair pulled back. "Pass me the soap. Please."

The weirdly casual intimacy of the moment almost choked him. This really  _ was _ just a shared shower. He'd turned to rinse off his back when he felt Ienzo reaching for him. For a moment they held each other under the warm water. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but soon they were kissing, and he could feel want blooming in him again, and he nearly said something but for once he thought  _ fuck it _ and let things just sort of  _ happen _ . They both knew they could say no if things got too weird. No questions asked. 

Ienzo pulled away. “I feel as though… I can’t control myself with you.”

Demyx touched his face. “Then don’t.”

Ienzo kissed him again, more deeply, and Demyx let his hands wander over him. He could feel Ienzo trembling despite the warmth of the water and wondered if he was getting overstimulated; if he were, he didn't say. In fact, he was kissing Demyx with more insistence. Demyx slid his hand over his bare ass and for a few minutes didn't think at all, letting himself enjoy the water and his new spouse and this whole weird situation they were in. Ienzo fumbled for his dick and began to stroke it, not quite so gently, and Demyx did the same for him.

It took longer this time, the pleasure sharper in that way. Between the soft needling of the water and Ienzo's free hand touching him it was almost too much; he heard himself gasping, the tension heightening still more, and he was afraid he might slip. He was shaking now, too, and he felt Ienzo's grip on him tighten. He came suddenly, the strength of it almost making his knees gave out, and he nearly bit Ienzo's lip in surprise. 

Now that things were a bit clearer, he could focus more on Ienzo, on the softness that was bleeding off him and the way he was pressing into Demyx's hand. It took another minute or two to get him all the way there, and when he did come Demyx nearly had to catch him to keep him upright.

For a moment they just breathed. "You're alright?" Ienzo asked.

"Kind of dizzy."

"Me too.  We should probably take a break before we…" He was still quite breathless. "I think one more time would kill me."

Demyx laughed. "Let's actually clean up before the hot water runs out."

"Now that I think of it--I'm ravenous."

"Like I said. Appetite." He kissed the tip of his nose.

They had dinner in a cafe nearby, and when they got back they were both too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. The thick blackout curtains of the room blocked out the perpetual twilight outside. Demyx woke almost abruptly and saw Ienzo drinking tea at the small table in the room, reading from the book he’d brought along.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Ienzo said. “You were sleeping like the dead. I figured it was best to not wake you.”

“Is it late?”

“By Radiant Garden standards. Early by Twilight Town’s.”

“Jet lagged?”

“I suppose I must be. But I’m not tired.”

Demyx sat up slowly. “Did we miss breakfast?”

“Not quite. I went down for tea and the owner said she’d be happy to heat something up for you when you woke. I think they’re… rather used to situations like ours.”

“...People fucking all night and then sleeping in?”

Ienzo rolled his eyes at the crass language. “Something like that. Yes. You were _ quite _ worn out, weren’t you?”

“...You say, as I had to catch you after you came.”

He scowled. “Touche. In any case, I’m not feeling  _ quite _ so sportive at the moment. What would you like to do today?”

Demyx inhaled sharply. “The beach. I want to go to it.”

“We’d have to stop somewhere to get something appropriate to wear.”

“Oh, there’ll be shops and shit everywhere. Just you wait. People will be selling you so much crap you don’t need.” He was smiling. “And the food! So much food. Though I’ve heard even street snacks can be pricey down there.”

“Lucky for us, then, that Ansem was generous with his wedding gift.” 

For just a moment, Demyx’s excitement was dented. Ienzo had never had to struggle for money; his adoptive father had been the  _ king _ , for god’s sake. He had never come across as spoiled, and was extremely practical, but still, he’d never once worried.

Well. Now that they were married, it wasn’t as if he had to worry either. And there was the money he was given for healing, though of course he tried not to take it…

“What’s wrong?” Ienzo asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s go. Beat the rush.”

They took the train down to the beach. It was mostly empty, this time of day; most kids were getting ready to go to school. They’d timed it perfectly. Had they gone last week, the whole place would’ve been mobbed with those trying to soak up the last bit of summer. 

Neither of them had really had to think about the physical act of traveling. One quick walk through a dark corridor, and you could be wherever you wanted, granted you’d heard of the place. The rattle of the train was soothing, and they watched the band of the ocean slowly creep forward, until they arrived at the terminus.

It was so close. He could smell it. Literally. The air had a clean, salty smell, and he breathed eagerly, trying to soak it all in. 

“We could’ve come sooner,” Ienzo said. “I didn’t realize how much you’d missed this.”

Demyx jumped a little; his longing must have shown on his face. “Oh, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “It’s not like leaving the world is easy.”

They got some swimwear and towels at one of the many little shops that lined the boardwalk. Even in the twilight, this place seemed brighter, the pale sunlight flickering off the water in the distance. There were a few people at the beach, but not too many, and they were far enough away that it seemed pretty private. The luscious sound of the tides made the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

It felt like coming home. Of a sort.

“I know you’re dying to get in the water,” Ienzo said. “I’ll find a spot to settle. Go on.”

Demyx looked towards him. He took off his wedding ring and handed it to Ienzo for safekeeping. 

The sand was welcome against his bare feet. He wasn’t used to having so much skin exposed to the air, even with the thin shirt he wore to cover his scars--this was more to avoid onlookers’ questions than for his own self-consciousness. The surf here was fairly gentle, and it was still a low tide, but once he felt the water against his toes tears rose in his eyes. The temperature was still fairly comfortable, not that it really would have mattered. He moved inward slowly until he could drift with the waves, the gentle push and pull.

Demyx didn’t know why he was so connected to water. Daybreak Town did have an ocean, and some of the few happy memories he had from his childhood had put him there with his scattershot friends. And any time he’d gone off world, he’d find himself inevitably attracted to the lakes and rivers, and especially the oceans. There was comfort in the water, in the constance of its tide no matter where he was; nothing in his life had been constant until now.

He looked back towards shore. He could just see Ienzo, only ankle deep in the surf, holding out his phone, probably for a photo. Demyx waved. “Come in!”

He gestured at the phone.

“Well then put it down!”

He saw Ienzo wander over to a spot farther inland, then so slowly make his way in; Demyx swam out to meet him. He took Ienzo’s hands. “Let’s go. It’s fun to float with the tide.”

He hesitated a little. “I’d hate to hold you back.”

“You won’t,” he said. “You… you can swim, right?”

“Of course, just not very well--”

“Stay with me. I don’t think there’s a strong riptide or anything. I’ll keep you safe.” He offered his hand. They went out to where the water was roughly chest-high. “Here,” Demyx said. He held out his arms. “Lean back a little. Just float.”

It took Ienzo a moment to relax enough to do it. 

“I’ve got you,” Demyx said. After a few moments, he could feel the tension easing in Ienzo’s shoulders.

“This is nice,” he admitted. “I can see why you like it. It’s… soothing.” He brushed the wet hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s like a heartbeat,” Demyx said. “Listen. You can almost hear it.”

For a few minutes they floated there in silence.

“I understand,” Ienzo said. “I do. I always thought your music sounded like water… I didn’t really know why until now.”

He paused. “My power wasn’t… born from pain like yours was,” he said. “I think… I think it came from a place of happiness. Of stability. Really the only kind I had as a kid was when I was… well, somewhere like here. It was always here for me. The music of it. Even when my mom wasn’t.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

He laughed a little. “Of course. You’re my husband.”

“I do believe that’s the first I’ve heard it said aloud.”

“It sounds nice.”

“Hm.”

They drifted with the tide awhile, but eventually Ienzo needed to find a restroom, so Demyx brought him back to shore. He went back under the water, to where it was a little deeper, and looked up (despite the salt stinging his eyes) at the light above. He stayed there, giving himself over to the tide and to the future, until he needed to come up for air. 

* * *

They remained there for most of the rest of the day. They got pretzels (what kind of maniac charges 2000 munny for a pretzel?) for lunch. It felt strange not to have to go anywhere, or do anything; they lay side-by-side on a blanket for the longest while.

“I like vacation Ienzo,” Demyx said. “He’s chill.”

Ienzo opened his eyes. “It is peculiar, isn’t it, how going somewhere else lets you be someone else.”

“Is this someone you want to be forever?”

“I don’t know if I would want to be freed like this indefinitely,” he said. “It is lovely to rest in the short term, but I don’t think I could go my whole life without researching again. ...The remaining sixty years of it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Demyx,” Ienzo said, this time with a trace of something almost like panic. “We’re… we’re going to get older. We’re…”

“I know,” Demyx said slowly. “Didn’t think we would get this far, huh?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. 

“Me either.” Demyx fumbled for his hand. “We’ve got each other, though. We can learn how to be old. Go gray. Er. I will, I guess.”

“I feel so… insignificant.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Not at all.” He laughed. “I look forward to seeing you old and gray.”

“I’ll grow the most  _ obnoxious _ beard and complain about kids these days.”

He laughed again, though more quietly. “Demyx?”

“Mm?”

“What do you think about kids?”

His heart gave a weird beat. “Like… in general?”

“Having them. As a hypothetical. This isn’t like my proposal. I realize I never asked.”

He exhaled. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Guess I should have thought more about that before we got married. I guess… I mean, we didn’t kill Beans, right? If it happens, it happens.”

A pause. “There’s one obvious hitch. Neither one of us has a uterus. It couldn’t just “happen” by happy accident, the way these things do. It would take… a lot of thought. It would have to be wanted.” 

“Well… yeah.” Demyx bit his lip and continued his contemplation of the sky. “How do you feel about it?”

“I’m not sure either. It goes back to Beans.” He thought a moment. “I found myself wanting to nurture her, and I never felt that before. But considering our… histories. I’d hate to go through all the effort of finding or having a child, only to be… raised like I was.”

“You wouldn’t do that to your kid, though.”

“How can you know that?”

Demyx looked at him. Ienzo kept his eyes on the sky. “Because you’re you,” he said. “You hate seeing people suffer. Hell, you almost  _ killed _ yourself to help with the Heartless’ pain. You…” He swallowed. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. You wouldn’t lie, or neglect. You’d listen.”

He blinked hard, and Demyx saw one single tear run down his face. He sat up. “This isn’t an urgent thing to think about, obviously,” he said. “This is… I mean, ten, fifteen years down the line. We’re so…  _ stupidly _ young, Demyx. I’m twenty-one, you’re twenty-three.”

“Look who learned to count.”

He smiled a little. 

“According to science, ours brains aren’t even done developing yet. So let’s not worry about it until after that, okay?”

Ienzo nodded. “Admittedly, hearing you bring up neuroscience is something of a turn on.”

“Well, keep it in your pants.” He smirked. “Plenty of time for that later.”

* * *

The next morning, Demyx woke up to his phone chiming. Ienzo groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot to mute it last night.” They’d been kind of busy. As he reached over to shut it, he noticed it was a text from Lea.

_ Heard you lovebirds were in town. Mazel tov. When were you gonna visit? _

Demyx sighed.

Ienzo sat up. His hair was a mess. “Well, I guess I’m awake now,” he said. “Who is it?”

“Lea. He wants to hang out. Should I just ignore him?”

“No. It  _ is _ late.” He yawned. 

_ We’re in a bnb by the beach, _ Demyx wrote.  _ I guess we can meet you there? _

_ Awesome. Kids would love a beach day _ . Wave emoji. 

_ Kids? _

_ Roxas. Xion. Naminé. I acquire children with ease, apparently. _

_ Aren’t you only like twelve years older than them?  _

_ Your point? _

Demyx sighed. 

_ Isa’s here too. So what do you say? We can probably be there in a few hours. I’ll have them skip school. Third day doesn’t really count, right? _

_ Sure. You’re a terrible father, you know? _

_ Eh, I strive for more of a cool uncle vibe. _ Peace sign emoji.  _ See you soon. That is. IF you can get out of bed. _ Wink.

_ You’re gross. _

_ Am I wrong? _

Demyx rolled his eyes and put the phone down. “They can meet us at the beach in a few hours.”

“Enough time for me to go back to sleep?”

Fuck. Why did Lea have to mention anything? “...Or something else.”

Presentable and fed, they waited by the train station for them to get in. They were running late, Lea said, not that Demyx expected anything else. They came in with the noon train, carting a cooler and a big umbrella. Xion was wearing a sun hat larger than her entire head, and Naminé had an inner tube around her shoulder. Demyx thought he loved the beach; they were obviously much more hardcore.

Lea was wearing a very excellent black button-up with flames on it, which matched his swim trunks. “...Can I just say,” he said as greeting, “That I literally  _ cannot _ believe my eyes? Is this a hallucination? A fever dream? Anyway. Congrats, I guess.”

Isa was much less outwardly expressive. “Lea, I am begging you,  _ please _ change your clothes. I will pay you.”

He took off his sunglasses and flipped his hair. “You can’t put a price on fashion.”

There was something… easy about the banter than Demyx recognized immediately, and he shot Ienzo a look, who just barely nodded.  _ Interesting _ . 

Xion gave them both a small hug, and Roxas shook their hands. The three of them immediately went over to the ocean with all of their various props, while the grown-ups were left to find a spot. They’d even brought beach chairs, for fuck’s sake. “Don’t you guys live inland?” Demyx asked. 

“The kids… kind of have a soft spot for the beach,” Isa said. “They’d missed so much, and it means a lot to them. It’s the only area where we let them really indulge.”

Demyx barely stopped himself from saying, “We?” He nodded instead, and gave Ienzo’s hand a small, covert squeeze. 

“I’m going to go get ice cream. Isa, you want anything?”

“I’ll come look,” he said diplomatically. Demyx just  _ barely _ saw Lea’s fingertips brush Isa’s. He had to pretend to cough to cover up his laughter. As soon as they were out of earshot, he looked towards Ienzo.

“They’re together,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“If they’re not together, then they’re definitely fucking.”

They both laughed; they couldn’t help themselves.

“It must be statistically improbable,” Ienzo said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “How many of us, Demyx?”

“Four of thirteen. No, five. Larxene was definitely a lesbian. Believe me, I  _ lived _ near her.” He bit his lip. “And wasn’t Marluxia?”

“Six, then. Confirmed, anyway.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I thought the ratio was one in ten…”

“They’re making fun of  _ us _ for being married, but yet  _ they’re _ \--”

“They’re what?” Lea asked. He had a handful of ice cream bars.

“That was quick,” Ienzo said evenly. 

“We were talking about Yuffie and Cid,” Demyx said quickly. “They think it’s hilarious we’re together.”

“Isn’t it?” Lea raised an eyebrow. “And why you thought you had to get married at your age, I have no idea.”

Demyx shrugged. 

“Anyway. Here. I’m not sure if you guys have this stuff over there.” He handed them each an ice cream. “Best sea-salt I’ve had.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ienzo said. “If not for Even, I would have eaten one for every meal. I’m surprised I didn’t end up with some sort of sugar disorder.”

“I’ll put the rest in the cooler for them,” Isa said. “God forbid they don’t get their fix.”

“So how did you two end up taking care of them?” Demyx asked carefully. 

Lea shrugged. “It made sense, in the moment,” he said. “Unless emancipated, minors here can’t live on their own. And we obviously couldn’t prove parentage or anything, or pretend that they look eighteen. So, officially speaking, they’re my nieces and nephew.” 

“I’m sure Roxas loves that,” Demyx said drolly. “If there was ever a kid with an authority problem.”

“Actually, he hasn’t had an issue anywhere in school,” Isa said. “No bullies. Nothing.”

“So they’re… well-adjusted kids?” Ienzo asked, incredulous.

Isa sighed. “For the most part. Having them go to school was Lea’s idea, and that young man Pence helped us with the paperwork. Give them a taste of normalcy. And an education. Goodness knows they need it.”

“I was thinking of taking classes myself,” Lea said. “Keep me busy. I don’t wear peace well.”

“It’d be good to get you out of the house,” Isa agreed. “It’s naive to think they’ll forget what they’ve been put through, but we can give them something to work with. For the future.”

There were a few moments when they all watched the three of them in the ocean, playing, splashing, laughing… happy.

Ienzo was grinning.

“What’s that?” Demyx asked.

“He’s a Winner,” Lea said tiredly. “It means he gets a free one.”

“Brings back memories,” Ienzo said. “I’ll save it for later. Or maybe give it to Ansem as a souvenir.”

After a long (and somewhat awkward) pause, Lea said, “So what do you two assholes get up to all day? Other than f--”

Isa elbowed him hard. “Manners.”

Demyx bit back another reply about “F.” “Actually, I’m a healer,” he said. “In training.”

“He’s very good,” Ienzo said.

Lea raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding. So if I fell and impaled myself right now, you could fix me?”

Demyx flinched, memories of that poor boy Ryan flickering behind his eyes. “I’d rather you not. But yeah.”

“Where did  _ that _ come from?”

“Easing the suffering of others, yadda yadda,” he said, with a shrug. “I… I like helping people.”

Lea put a hand on Demyx’s forehead. “Isa. Did you hear that? I think Demyx was swapped out with a pod person. This one likes working.  _ Isa. _ ”

“Ha ha, funny. Good joke, Lea. Did you get your validation?” Isa’s eyes were closed. “But I’m glad you’ve found a fulfilling calling, Demyx. That’s what matters.”

“What about you guys?” Demyx asked.

“I do some simple programming work, to get some money,” Isa said. “Educational games, things of that ilk.”

“You were always good at that. I was jealous,” Ienzo admitted. 

The past lingered, like a ghost, even though the conversation remained light.

“And you, Lea?” Ienzo asked.

“I’m a good little housemarm,” he said. “Someone’s got to keep the house clean and the kids fed.”

“We get an allowance from the town, to take care of them,” Isa explained. 

“I am serious, though, about going to school.” He stretched, raising his impossibly long and thin arms. “Ironically, I was thinking about being a teacher.”

“How is that ironic?” Demyx asked. “You’re great with kids. If I’m understanding correctly.”

“He wasn’t very good in school,” Isa said. “It took some doing to get his STEM skills up to snuff, to work with Ansem.”

Ienzo set the ice cream stick he’d been gnawing aside. “It doesn’t bother you, to talk about him?”

“We’re trying very hard to move on,” Isa said.

“I don’t have time for that nonsense, anyway,” Lea added. “Being sad, being angry, it’s so tiring. And I’m old, you know. I don’t have any energy to spare.” He sighed. “We’re here, we’re new people. We’re finding happiness. Hell! Look at you two.”

“But are you dealing with the past, or repressing it? Because that can be--”

Lea cut Ienzo off. “Buddy, I appreciate how much you care, but if I felt I needed a therapist, I would get one. You know?”

Demyx swallowed, the previous sweetness of the ice cream turning into bitter salt. “I’m guessing you don’t have anything stronger in that cooler, do you?”

“I am always prepared, with him.” Isa pulled out two beers. “Anyone else?”

“I think I’d actually rather have more ice cream,” Ienzo said.

“...And I think I’m going to join the kids,” Lea said. Both of them headed in opposite directions. Demyx bit his lip. The beer was crisp, and tasted good in the relative heat.

“So, can I ask you--” he began.

“About Lea and I?” Isa said. “The answer is yes. I could see you were both wondering.”

Demyx shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Isa said. “Lea is a bit… insecure about it all.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “Him? Really?”

“Lea and I have… a complicated past, moreso than you or Ienzo. Finding true, honest security in it is… difficult. I think part of the reason he was so excited to visit you was to see how it all worked. To get some reassurance.” He took a drink. “You two are the only thing he can really compare our… arrangement, to.” A pause. “Demyx, are you happy?”

“Well, yes. We… we’re in a good place. Obviously. But there were times it was… really hard, and really confusing. We both have… a lot of issues.”

“PTSD, anxiety, depression?”

“The works. Also, he’s autistic, but that’s not a bad thing, of course.”

“I’d wondered.” A pause. “I think I also sought some reassurance. I wanted to know if it were possible, to… move on.”

“But you have. You have your job, the kids--”

Isa smiled. “You know what I mean.”

Demyx drank some more of the beer. “I take medicine,” he admitted. “We both do. It helps… manage things. I could get you some.”

“I will consider it. Maybe I can convince him into it too.” He settled more back into his chair. 

“Just… take your time,” he said. “You know? It’s not a race. We’re… we’re young, Isa.”

“I’m aware. Painfully so.”

A few minutes passed. He’d only really had ice cream in his stomach; just the one beer was making him warm. 

“I suppose you also felt the ceaseless need to apologize.”

“Yes,” Demyx said. 

“If I may be so candid.” He set his empty beer into the sand. “I… worry about the past.”

“That’s the PTSD.”

“More than that. The way I treated all of you--not just you specifically, but everyone--was unacceptable.  _ Is _ unacceptable. I feel there is no way to make up for it. Especially Xion.” He swallowed. “I didn’t just dehumanize her, I misgendered her,  _ abused _ her, emotionally and physically. The fact that she just lets it all go… that they all do… I feel I can’t swallow the guilt.”

“Is this the first time you’ve talked to someone about this?” Demyx asked. “It… it feels that way.”

“Lea is ambivalent about therapy. I’m much more practical. But alas.” He thought for a moment. “Our cover story is questionable as is. Two grown men with three underage children? With nothing to prove ourselves other than some forged paperwork? How can I possibly go to a therapist without honesty? And if I were honest, it’d threaten world order.”

“It’s a hard situation.” He looked back out at the sea--the four of them were playing chicken, boys versus girls. “You could… you could come home, Isa. For a little while. Ienzo and I can both help you, if you want it.”

“It’s not home,” Isa said softly. “Not anymore. Home is here.” He sighed. “Besides, you’re yet another person I’ve abused.”

“It doesn’t help that at the time I was a complete bastard. But I’ve changed. And you have too. And that’s not meaningless. You’re better, Isa.”

“I want to be.”

“You are. Not to mention all the stuff you did--we did!--to take down the real Organization. It was badass.”

“It was the least I could do. Very much literally.”

“You can always call or text us too,” Demyx said. “There’s that.”

“...These gummiphones would have saved us a world of trouble in the past.”

“Ienzo says that a lot.”

“What do I say?” He had come back, with a small cloth bag. “I brought some more water. I figured we’d need it.”

“Your husband is a wise man, Ienzo,” Isa said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well. Don’t inflate his ego.”

“Ouch! I thought you loved me. I want a divorce.” Demyx feigned swooning.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s not so easy once a marriage is consu--” He covered his mouth.

Isa shrugged. “It is what it is.”

* * *

Demyx and Ienzo spent a few more days by the sea. At the end of their trip they headed inland, to Little Chef’s bistro, where they’d get picked up for the flight home.

Those days were nearly perfect, despite hiccups; Ienzo’s horrific sunburn, thankfully easy to heal away; despite the nightmare Demyx had about Ryan the day of their visit with Lea and Isa; despite. They spent their time in the water or in seaside cafes or making love. 

But in the end, they missed home, their work, their own bed. It felt strange, to know he had a place where he belonged. Strange but earned. So he wasn’t sad to see Twilight Town disappear into the sky when they left. They could come back. 

There was time. There was so much time.

“What are you thinking about?” Ienzo asked.

“Time,” he admitted. “We have a lot of it.”

“Yes.”

“There’s so much I want to do with you.”

“I thought we’d had that covered.”

“You are gross and very gay. I’m trying to be  _ deep. _ ”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. 

“Let’s try to go somewhere every once in a while. Like maybe next time somewhere with mountains. We could go hiking. Or camping.”

“I’m surprised that interests you. I thought you hated being sweaty.”

“Yeah, but like, we can’t know we don’t like something until we do it, right? So we should try to do everything once.”

He smiled. “Okay. Let’s.”


	29. Grown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Ienzo's birthday.

Ienzo didn’t come here often. Some would say not often enough.

The garden wasn’t very busy. It usually wasn’t; a majority of these people’s loved ones were simply gone, leaving no one to mourn them. Ienzo felt--perhaps selfishly--that he had spent enough time mourning and memorializing all these people that to come down here more than desired was not necessary. 

Today was different. 

The little corner with the red maple was well-cared for. Ienzo suspected that this was probably Demyx’s doing--a little gentle prodding had netted that his culture highly valued cleaning a loved one’s grave. There were even the remaining ashes of a stick of incense. Ienzo took a fresh one out of his pocket, lit it, and set it in the holder of the mortuary tablet. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d felt drawn here, today of all days.

It would probably always hurt a little to see their picture. The pain was becoming more acute as he thought of it. His memories of that time, without his powers to bolster them, were fading slowly. This newfound forgetfulness was not pleasant. There might someday be an instance where all he had left was this photo, these tablets, this tree.

In his periphery, he could see a small girl and what looked to be her grandmother kneeling by one of the blooms in the field. They clapped their hands, bowed in a show of respect. Was it rude, or wrong, if he did not do this also? His parents had never been religious, or even spiritual. Wherever they were, if they had any consciousness whatsoever, did they know they were here? ...That he was?

Ienzo thought he’d spent a long time thinking about death. This was not actually true; he’d spent his time thinking about darkness, what it means to fall. But to die? (To sleep, perchance to dream?) Even would tell him that a cessation of life was a cessation of existence. Ansem would probably waffle on philosophically about what certain religions  _ believed _ . Demyx would probably say to not worry about it, at least not now.

Dying was a natural part of living; it would happen to him someday too, eventually.

His legs were starting to hurt from kneeling so long. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree. 

“Oh… hey. Surprised you’re here.”

Ienzo looked up. Demyx was holding a canvas bag. “I could say the same for you. Though I figured this was your doing.”

Demyx shrugged, a bit sheepish. He set the bag down, knelt, bowed his head for a moment, and then began to fuss with the tablets, brushing away tiny specks of dirt. Ienzo felt a stab of something like frustration, or maybe resentment; he seemed to know how to mourn Ienzo’s parents better than Ienzo. “I mean… it’s what you do for family, you know? And they’re kind of mine, now. We’ve got the same name.”

Ienzo relaxed a little. “Right. I didn’t think of that.” Their marriage was very, very new; they were still navigating the change in dynamic. 

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

“No… that’s kind of you, to do that.” He took a deep breath. “Do you do this often?”

“I stop by once a month or so. Usually when I’m passing through the area.”

He hummed in response. “So what’s that?”

“Oh… this was for later. For you, you know?”

Ienzo stared at him blankly.

Demyx cocked his head. “Did you forget? It’s your birthday.” 

“I didn’t… forget. It’s usually a nonissue.” He’d never celebrated, even when he was very small. It was normally another day; last year, Demyx hadn’t even known the date, and so Ienzo was able to get away with not celebrating. Not to mention, the year before that he’d been laid up, unable to breathe around the swelling in his throat from the replica--He clasped his neck automatically. 

Demyx frowned. “It happened this time two years ago? The, uh. Thing?”

“I don’t believe so. But it was during my… recovery.” 

“Oof. Big yikes. Well, uh. Sorry?”

Ienzo smiled. “It’s alright.”

“I just figured we’d… celebrate.” Then, off Ienzo’s look, “A little. Like, cake?” He gestured towards the bag. “Maybe some drinks.” He shrugged.

“It seems… indulgent, to take a whole day for oneself.”

“A lot happened this year. A lot.” He squeezed Ienzo’s hand gently, running a finger over the ring. “That’s worth acknowledging.”

“I… I suppose.” Ienzo bit his lip. “Truthfully I feel much older than that.”

“I know. You don’t look it, though.”

He laughed a little. 

“Is that why you came here today?”

“Perhaps.” Ienzo frowned. “I was thinking… that they’d never see me be grown. Sometimes I’m reminded more of them than others. I… I feel like a bad mourner.”

“There’s not a  _ right _ way to do this.”

“You know they were my age when they had me?”

“...I can understand why you’re tripped out now.”

Ienzo chuckled. “Maybe that is why I feel so unsettled.” 

Demyx kissed his cheek. “I cannot stress this enough--parenthood is optional.”

“I know. And I am not ready to consider it more at the moment.”

“You and me both.”

“I barely feel like an adult--I couldn’t possibly imagine--”

“I thought you said you felt old.”

Ienzo shrugged. “As you can see, I am all over the place today.”

“...Sounds like you could use a drink.”

“Yes… maybe…” He stood and flinched as the blood rushed painfully back into his legs. “Or several--”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

So far there was only one pub in town. It had been one of the first buildings to open back up after the Fall--which made sense. Healthy or not, those in pain need an escape, or perhaps the illusion of safety, and alcohol could provide both.

Being early evening, the place was relatively empty, and quiet. He relaxed a little.

“Happy birthday!” someone yelled shrilly in his ear, and he jumped.

“For fuck’s sake, Yuffie. I asked you to be chill about this,” Demyx said. He gave Ienzo’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Ienzo tried to get his breathing back under control. 

The guilty party scowled. “You two are no fun.  _ Ever _ ,” she said. 

Ienzo looked past her and saw that Leon and Aerith were here, too. “I’d really like this to not be about me,” he said. “If possible.”

“That’s fine,” Aerith said. “We’re just friends, hanging out.”

“And there just happens to be a cake,” Demyx said. “What? I can’t exactly return it.”

“So what do you want?” Leon asked. “First round’s on me.”

“I’ll have--” Yuffie said quickly.

“Not you,” Leon said. “You’re on your own, kid.”

“I… I’m honestly not sure,” Ienzo said. They rarely drank aside from some wine. “Nothing too terribly strong, I suppose.”

“We’ll just have what you’re having,” Demyx said, with a shrug. “Can’t be picky when it’s free.”

Leon chuckled. “Alright.” He crossed over to the bartender. 

“This… is another thing that feels strange, but shouldn’t,” Ienzo said quietly to Demyx. 

“Is it bad? Do you want to go home? I’m really sorry about Yuffie. She’s just… like that.”

He smiled. “No, I know it comes from a good place. I just need to… get comfortable.”

“Alcohol will help.”

“I surely hope so.”

Leon came over with two glasses of brown soda. “Rum and coke okay?”

Demyx nudged him. “You’ll probably like that.”

Leon smiled. “Go easy, okay?”

“Thank you,” Ienzo said. He took the glass, sipped. It was sweet, and he could just barely taste the undercurrent of the rum. “The things we do for fun.”

Yuffie came over with a pint of beer. “Well, cheers,” she said, and clinked her glass against his. “So I guess you grew up pretty sheltered, huh? You guys never got out much?”

Ah, right. This was part of it. Talking and drinking, drinking and talking. He felt Demyx rest a hand on his waist. Ienzo took a breath. Yuffie was blunt; she did not mean to offend. “Putting it mildly,” Ienzo said. “I never used to… see the reason for such things. I’d rather hole myself up with a book. That was my entertainment.”

“Eesh. Party animal.”

He smiled. “Different times. Not so much now.” 

“To be fair, a lot of us were wet blankets,” Demyx said. “No point getting fucked up if everything’s already kind of numb, right?”

“I didn’t think of it that way. You know. It’s still  _ really _ weird you guys were Nobodies.”

“Tell me about it,” Demyx said, with an eye roll.

“For me, the opposite is strange,” Ienzo said. “Very much so.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Like how?”

“Like…” Ienzo looked down into his drink, which seemed to be going down easily. “Well, I was a Nobody for nearly twelve years. A lot of… typical things passed me by. Like this. Drinking with friends in a bar was something I only ever read about in books. I thought it wasn’t something that really happened; or at least, it never would to me. In the Organization… you get used to hiding, and doing what you’re told.” Was this conversation too dark? Did he lighten it up? Was she actually curious, or being polite?

“Same for me, kind of,” Demyx said. 

“You seem like you had a more normal time, though,” Yuffie said. Then to Ienzo, “no offense.”

“None taken. It’s the truth.” His glass was empty. He didn’t know where to leave it, but holding onto it was awkward.

“You want something else?” Demyx asked. “I’m done too.”

“Get whatever you want. I’ll have the same.” He wasn’t feeling quite tipsy, just a little warm. He probably couldn’t hold much, being not only small but unused to all this. 

He went over to the bar. Aerith came over to them, with her wine. “All this time and Demyx barely talks about those days. I think he thinks it’s taboo.”

“Isn’t it?” Ienzo asked. “It’s… there’s quite some tension there, isn’t there?”

Yuffie snorted. “Yeah, well.”

“We’ve… let go,” Aerith said. “You’ve both proven yourselves to be good people.”

“Practically model citizens, actually,” Leon said. “At least I don’t have to drag your drunk asses home. Unlike some of the people who come here.”

Demyx came back with two more glasses, clear this time. “It’s a time,” he admitted. “It’s not fun to deal with their alcohol poisoning. Trust me.”

Ienzo took the new drink. “Every time I believe I get a grasp on the scope of work you all do, I’m proven wrong. How do you possibly do all this?”

Leon laughed. “Very carefully. Things are settling, though. We’ve got some actual people in charge. So instead of dealing with the infrastructure, and the construction…”

“Medicine and bureaucracy--” Aerith added.

“Heartless and bar fights,” Yuffie said.

“We’re cutting it down. But it’s a lot to ask even now. I think if I were a few years older I couldn’t take it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Demyx said. “I do barely half of what Aerith does and I’m exhausted.”

“You’ll get there,” she said. “And Ienzo, it’s not as if you yourself are a stranger to overwork. How many days did you go without sleeping?”

“Three,” he said.

“Four,” Demyx said. Then off Ienzo’s look, “Sometimes I still have to babysit him. But he’s gotten better.”

“You two are good for each other,” Aerith said.

“Nauseatingly so.” Yuffie drained her beer. “Anyone want to play pool?”

“Sure,” Demyx said. “Ienzo? Do you want to watch? It’s fun.”

He found himself perched on a bar stool, nursing his second drink, which was something clear and carbonated and almost entirely flavorless aside from the sharpness of vodka. He felt the same warmth as earlier, a little more heavily, his anxiety whispering now instead of shouting, though his head still felt clear. Wine had only ever really made him sleepy, but he was quite alert. He watched Demyx and Yuffie play the game. Both of them were pretty terrible at it, Demyx only winning by a slim margin. “Let’s let Ienzo play,” Yuffie said.

“I’m rather content watching.”

Demyx offered him the stick. “I thought we were trying new things.”

He looked at his glass, just ice now. “I’ll try, but don’t blame me if you lose.” 

“I never lose with you.” He winked. “Alright. Stand here. It’s okay, you can bend down a little low, and use your hand to aim it.” Ienzo tried to listen, but Demyx’s hand was on his waist, and he felt something like a flashburn of want. Not enough to be physically evident, but enough to give him pause in public. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. His shot looked hopeless, but he did end up sinking one of the balls--just not one of Demyx’s.

“Aw, thanks,” Yuffie said. She blew him a kiss. “Your next one’s on me, okay?”

“You’re such a traitor,” Demyx said playfully. He kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll get you for that.”

Such suggestive flirtation was usually off the table in public, but he found he didn’t mind. “Is that a promise?”

“Ugh, gross,” Yuffie scoffed. “Well. At least I won. Speaking of promises. I’ll be right back.” She went over to the bar.

Demyx took his hand. “You feel okay?”

“I feel… good. Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“I figured. You’re not usually so flirty. I like it.” He chanced a quick kiss. 

“This is kind of fun,” Ienzo said. “Thanks for… planning it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Those guys can always used an excuse to get hammered.”

Yuffie came back, holding a few small glasses. “I got shots,” she said.

Demyx turned to him. “You don’t have to drink it all at once.”

“Yes you do. That’s the point.”

Demyx rolled his eyes at her. “Let’s just let him do what he’s comfortable with.”

“What is it?” Ienzo asked.

“Straight whatever,” Yuffie said. “Whiskey, I think.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” he said.

Yuffie let out a whoop. “I knew there was an interesting person in there somewhere.”

They drank; it tasted more or less like cough syrup, and he flinched, feeling the burn all the way into his stomach. Already he was feeling a little bit heavy, a little bit undefined, and definitely very warm. If there were a threshold between tipsy and drunk, he’d definitely just crossed it, and realizing this was a little dizzying. The sensation was instantly placeable, and he spent a minute trying to study it, to understand it. 

“Cake?” Demyx asked.

“Sounds… very good.”

This wasn’t like being high, where everything was the same, only larger. Not quite dissociation, but not quite being in his body. He laughed more than he was wont to normally, at jokes that were less witty; it was easier to talk, which was how he found himself having a long, involved conversation with Leon about the state of the city, how it was ragged-yet-not. It would never be the same as it was, they decided.

After another drink, he felt again heavy, and had to sit down, contemplating the woodgrain in the table for probably too long. His thoughts were scattered, not quite so frenzied, but not as calm as when he smoked. 

A cold glass was being pressed into his hand. Demyx sat across from him. “It’s just water. You’ve had a couple and not too much to eat. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I must be quite sloppy,” he mumbled.

“No, not at all. You’re fine. You think you’re a mess, look at that guy.” Demyx pointed to a patron at the bar, who was slumped over, fast asleep, while the bartender mopped up his spilled drink. 

“Are you having fun?”

“I always have fun with you.”

“I’m not holding you back?”

“Why would you?” He looked genuinely confused. 

“Just… not being good at this.”

“I don’t think you  _ want _ to be an expert at drinking,” he said, with a laugh. “That’s definitely not good for you.”

He drank the water down. 

Yuffie came over to them, stumbling a bit. “All good?”

“We’re fine. Just chilling.”

“Oh, cool. I thought you’d died.” She hiccuped.

“Died?” Ienzo asked. “What do you--”

“Like, threw up, passed out,” Demyx said. “Not literally.”

“I wanted to sit down,” he said. 

“Mm, that does sound nice. You’re so smart.” She wandered over to Aerith and sat next to her. 

“See, you’re fine,” Demyx said to him, with a wink. 

“It just feels very odd to be so uninhibited in public. Usually it’s just you and me. And I.” 

“Weird in a bad way?”

“Weird in a weird way.” 

“Do you feel anxious?”

“Not really,” he said. “Is it bad I want to keep going?”

“I don’t think so, if you feel okay. But if you’re worried, have some more water first.”

“Let’s do that.”

He felt less lightheaded after all the water, but it made him need to relieve himself, and being alone in the washroom made him aware of how strange this whole situation was. He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He washed his face with a paper towel, felt a bit better, and rejoined Aerith at the bar.

“Leon took Yuffie home,” she explained. “She was getting a bit… belligerent.”

“Oh dear,” Ienzo said. He snorted despite himself.

“It happens. She talks a tough game, but she doesn’t get to cut loose much, either.” She set aside her glass. “You two in a hurry to get home?”

Demyx stretched. “Not really.” 

“I figure we could have one or two more at mine. It’s on the way for you, anyway.”

“Sounds good. Ienzo? Want to go?”

The bar was noisier now, more crowded--how had he not noticed earlier--now that it was later. “Sure.”

Aerith lived alone in a two-room house on the edge of town. “It’s not much,” she said to Ienzo.

“I like your house. It’s cute,” Demyx said.

“Maybe one day you’ll have one like it.”

“Maybe,” he said. He flopped onto the couch. 

The room was full of plants. More illumina, glowing gently in the dark; herbs, ferns (“I have a soft spot for ferns,” she said) and lilies, though their smell was less pungent than regular lilies. 

It reminded Ienzo, for just a moment, of his mother; clipping and propagating roots and stems. He touched one of the plants. 

What would they think if they saw him now? Grown up, married?

Very, very drunk?

The laughter was harder to contain now. “Something funny?” Aerith asked. She was rummaging in a cabinet. 

“Probably not to anyone but me.”

“He does that sometimes,” Demyx said. “Keeps himself entertained. Thinks himself into a corner.”

Ienzo glared at him. “You’re not much better.”

Demyx stuck his tongue out at him, then giggled. 

Aerith came back with a bottle of wine and some glasses balanced precariously in one hand. In the other, a joint. “You guys want?”

“I’d rather have that than a drink.” At least this much was familiar. 

“Sit, it’s okay. You’re basically family.” She took a few tokes and passed it to Demyx.

“So much for one of us being in commission.”

“We’re far past that,” she said.

Ienzo settled next to Demyx on the couch. “It was… very kind of you all to come out today.” The taste of smoke was welcome. 

She raised her eyebrow. “Why? We’re friends.”

“It’s… nice to remember that.”

She patted Ienzo’s hand. “So long as you had a good time.”

“I… did.” 

“I don’t know why you don’t bring him around more,” Aerith said to Demyx. The joint moved from each of them. 

“It’s not… Demyx’s fault,” Ienzo said. “These things take a certain strength from me. It’s easier to keep myself busy with my work.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You’re very personable,” she said. “But I understand.”

He snorted. “Sure.”

“It’s true,” she said. 

“He’s  _ very _ polite. To everyone but me.” Demyx nudged him. 

“What can I say? Manners are the most obvious social skills.” He exhaled smoke. “I don’t think I have a conversational middle ground.”

“I talk to the sick and wounded most of the day. I get it.” The joint was done with; she stubbed it out. 

“Hey, I do too,” Demyx said.

“Compared to me you’re still wet behind the ears.”

Demyx barked a laugh. 

“Oh,” she said after a minute. “God. You two have had such weird lives.”

Ienzo thought about it. Maybe it was the mixture of substances in his body, but he said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They left soon afterwards, too tired to keep talking. He was feeling more high than drunk now, a welcome reprieve, and the night air felt almost like silk. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed up this late (sans all nighters). 

“I’m glad I married you,” Demyx said.

Ienzo smirked. ““And I love everyone in this bar?””

He stopped, touching Ienzo’s shoulder. “I mean it. I’m not drunk anymore. Well, not really.”

“I’m glad too,” he said softly.

“I couldn’t imagine doing all this alone. At the bar, I was… hearing them all talk about the past, and how they always all had each other, and I realized how lonely I was for so long. I appreciate you so much.” 

Intoxicated or not, Ienzo could tell he meant it. He kissed Demyx, in the dark, in the street, and they let it go on more than they were normally wont to in public. Despite this, Ienzo was disappointed when he pulled away.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We probably shouldn’t--while we’re--”

“That’s… practical.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go home.”


	30. Adventurous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a rainy day with nothing to do, Demyx and Ienzo decide to go exploring.
> 
> This chapter is (mildly) NSFW.

Another rainy day. It had been three in a row now, and Demyx was starting to go insane.

He loved rain. He did not love this much rain, or how sick it was making everyone, especially because  _ he _ was the one who had to take care of them.

The first day or two of relaxing and sleeping in had been nice, felt good. But after so long of  _ not _ being lazy, being still was making him a bit stir crazy. He and Ienzo both.

"Demyx, please find something to do. I'm trying to study." 

He'd seen everything there was to see on Kingstagram and then some. Obsessing over his compositions was just making him frazzled. "You could go somewhere else," Demyx said.

"I could. I do not want to."

"Why not?"

Ienzo looked up at him blearily. "Because this room has good light and I cannot  _ see _ otherwise. I'm waiting for new light bulbs to come in the market. The ones in the library blew."

"Because the lamps are old and you use them too much."

Ienzo turned back to his book and stared at it for a time. Demyx tied a worn-out bandage to the fire poker and waved it around over Beans for a while, who seemed to get some amusement out of it for a time. After that, she got tired, stretched, and curled in front of the fire. Demyx took a picture of her. He had more photos of Beans than he did of himself and Ienzo. She was a captive audience. 

He looked back over at his husband. Ienzo had his face in his hands. "... You okay?"

"My eyes are getting worse," he said. "It is quite frustrating." 

"I can heal them."

"Even's printing new lenses for me, but it's taking a while." He took off the offending glasses. 

"Mm. Well, your choice." Demyx picked up the cat, who complained, and sat her in his lap. 

"She's trying to sleep. Leave her alone."

"Well, I'm bored."

"Then  _ go _ find something to do."

"Why don't you?"

"Keep it up and perhaps I will."

A few minutes of silence. They didn't fight often; if they did, it was usually over something stupid. Demyx exhaled. "I'm sorry. I'm being obnoxious."

"It's alright. I'm… just frustrated. Not with you."

"With what?" 

"With…" He sighed. "With my studies. I feel as though I don't know what to work towards. I feel increasingly repulsed by hard sciences. I keep trying to pique my own interest, but… I'm bored, Demyx. I'm so bored."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

He pressed his face in his hands again.

"I'm sorry," he said. He rested his hands on Ienzo's shoulders and rubbed gently. "I know it's gotta feel weird."

"I feel a failure," he mumbled.

"You don't have to force yourself to do it. Nobody's going to come after you if you change fields."

"I know." He scoffed a little, to himself. "It's… what was expected of me, since I was very small. Ansem himself suggested a change, yet I feel as though I'm letting him down."

Demyx snorted. "He thinks the sun shines out your ass. I think he'd be proud of you, so long as you were happy."

A sigh. "I suppose."

"What are you still interested in?"

"Psychology. Neuroscience. History. Anthropology, linguistics--"

"Enough to keep anybody busy for a lifetime."

He smiled. "I curse your insightfulness, sometimes. It makes it very hard to feel sorry for myself."

"You get too stuck in your own head, I think."

"...I know."

Demyx kissed him once. "Let's go somewhere."

"It's raining like mad."

"There's a whole castle here. Why don't we go exploring?"

Ienzo brightened a little. "That doesn't sound half bad. They never used to let me sneak around on my own."

They packed a bag with some snacks, water, and some drawing things to make a map. Fed the cat. This gathered, they started walking.

"Where did you want to go, when you were a kid?" Demyx asked.

"The upper floors. Always. There must be something in the towers."

"Secret passages?"

" _ Something. _ " 

They went up and up and up, beyond the clumps of residential space, beyond the offices that were once for the ruler of the city. Everything that they did not use on a regular basis was choked with dust, decay, and water damage; the places that had paint or wallpaper were peeling; the soft wood floors had chipped up, revealing the stone beneath. Every now and again, they came across gouges in the walls and floors; remnants left behind by Heartless. 

“I knew all of this was in disrepair, but I didn’t think it was  _ this _ bad,” Ienzo said. He nudged a piece of curled carpeting with his foot. 

“Yeah, me neither. But I’m not surprised.” The windows were dingy. Demyx rubbed a hole clean with his sleeve. “Look. We’re pretty high up.”

Town spread below them, smaller than they had ever seen it. It was like looking at models, at toys. Demyx wasn’t sure how he felt about the sense of impermanence it gave him.

“We’re near the clocktower,” Ienzo said. “Let’s see if we could find it.”

The reconnaissance part of Demyx’s brain, long dormant, began to wake up and take it all in. The architecture of the castle was all over the place; it must have been constantly added on-to, rather than build and completed all at once. “Why is this all here? What’s the point of it?”

Ienzo considered this. “There’s a reason this place was once called Hollow Bastion. Many, many years ago, the weather was much harsher. More flooding, battering winds, temperatures that flopped from boiling to freezing on a dime. I mean centuries ago, probably shortly after the Fracture. The whole town was here; it was safe, from the elements, and what have you.”

“...Huh.”

“I agree there’s no need for such excess anymore, but what are we to do? Knock it down? What purpose would it serve?”

“It’s just… sad.”

“I agree.”

It took more poking around to find the staircase that led into the tower. The whole place was dark; they had to use their phones to penetrate the gloom. The actual door leading into the tower proper was locked; Ienzo gave it a kick. “All this time I’ve wanted to come up here, only to be held back by something so paltry as a door. Even if there were copies of the key--well. I’m sure it’s lost to the sands of time.”

Demyx snorted; as smart as Ienzo was, he could be  _ so  _ oblivious.

“Something amuse you?” he asked coolly. 

“You’re yammering on about  _ keys _ ,” Demyx said. “Did you forget?”

Ienzo blinked. The lighting was dim, but Demyx swore he saw him blush. “I know of your… distaste of it.”

“But I’m also lazy, and I’d hate to have come all the way up here for nothing.” He summoned the Keyblade and used it to crack the lock. “Haven’t had to do this in a while.”

“I admit, it is still…  _ bizarre _ to see you with that thing.”

“You’re telling me.” It disappeared with a flash. He had to really muscle the door to make a space wide enough for them to squeeze through. It protested with a deafening  _ creak _ . He shone the light on his phone around, illuminating the wooden staircases and struts leading all the way up. He was hit with the smell of mildew and decay, and coughed. “The wood’s probably rotten. Be careful.”

“I’m small. I should be fine.”

“Rotting wood doesn’t care how heavy you are.”

The place was smoggy with dust, as well as other things he was sure they shouldn’t be breathing in. He watched Ienzo’s flashlight dart forward, up and up. He should’ve brought rope. Why didn’t he think of that? God forbid he fall-- Demyx inhaled sharply. He may be a healer, but healing can’t fix  _ dead _ .

“Come up here,” Ienzo said. “There’s another door. I think it leads to the roof.”

Demyx followed him, tentatively. He wasn’t  _ much _ heavier than Ienzo, but the wood groaned unpleasantly, and planks were missing in places. He tried to climb quickly, to get it over with, to get back on solid(ish) ground. 

He was right; though thankfully this door was already open, hanging off the jamb. It was a balcony, of a sort. They’d been climbing and poking around for so long that the rain had stopped, and the sun was setting, casting everything in pinks and reds. Demyx gasped, tasting fresh air for the first time in hours. 

The balcony creaked, and there was a sharp  _ snap _ . He grabbed Ienzo by both wrists, finding him suddenly dangling, one foot planted on the stone wall. The whole bottom of the balcony had fallen out. “You say “I told you so,” and I’ll divorce you,” he said, panting with adrenaline. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, lovely.”

“You can probably walk right up.”

Ienzo glanced down. “Let go of me.”

“Over my dead body!”

“No, really. It’s okay. It’s not even a three meter drop. There’s a… it looks like some kind of garden.”

Demyx peeked around the hole in the floor, and saw he was right. “On three.” He heard a soft thud, and then Ienzo swore. “You alright?”

“Out of practice with this all,” he called breathlessly. “I’m… bruised, but I’ll be fine.”

Carefully, Demyx dropped down as well. He healed Ienzo’s twisted ankle, and they surveyed the place. 

It was clear it had once been beautiful. The stone paths were choked with cracks and weeds; the marble statues had had heads and arms ripped off. The flowers were so overgrown it was impossible to tell what they had once been; most of the greenspace had been taken over by grass that was waist high. A fountain in the center was cracked, its naked spigots showing. It was here they sat, for a moment. The sun was setting quickly.

“I’d say let’s head back before it gets dark, but it seems too late for that,” Ienzo said. 

“Well, I’ve camped in worse places.”

“As have I.”

Demyx took the blanket out of the bag and laid it in a drier patch that wasn’t overgrown. They had some sandwiches, tried to ration their water. They probably  _ could  _ make it down alright in the dark, but after seeing that fall, Demyx wasn’t sure how much he trusted the wood. At least all this was solid. “So, is your curiosity satisfied?” Demyx asked.

“Not quite,” he admitted. “I had thought this was all… mysterious, magical. But it’s just--”

“A crumbling building?”

“...Well. Yes.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Ienzo smiled. “You do apologize too much. But, I suppose, it’s alright. Part of me hoped this would be the saving grace of my childhood. Well. It  _ is _ beautiful, in its own right. Don’t you think?”

“It must’ve been great in its heyday.”

“Who knows? It might be once more. Someday.” He stuffed the cloth that had held their food back in their bag and lay back. “The stars will be out soon. I wouldn’t mind watching them. If it’s all the same.”

Demyx lay down next to him and kicked his shoes off his aching feet. The sky slowly darkened, from violet to navy to a blue so dark it was almost black. 

“There are even more now,” Ienzo said.

It was true; it might be night, but the sky was full of brightness. 

“Did you ever study the constellations?” Ienzo asked him.

“Well, yeah. It was part of our basic survival thing.” He lifted his palm and began gesturing. “That one’s Cancer. Like a crab. Can you see it? And then… the Big Dipper. That star at the end was the North Star, the one closest to Daybreak Town. You were born in April, right? So you would’ve been born under… Taurus. The bull.”

“I  _ am _ stubborn,” Ienzo admitted. “I find this all fascinating. The ones I learned are  _ completely _ different.” He leaned against him but kept his gaze upwards. “So, what’s yours?”

“Libra. The scales. Balance.”

“I do recall you mentioning that to me, once long ago. I used to think astrology was all tosh, but so many things affect a heart. Why wouldn’t the stars?” 

“That’s  _ deep _ .” He felt Ienzo nudge him hard. “Ow.”

“Inevitably this makes me think of the night you first kissed me.”

“Does it?”

He hummed in response. “You know, that was sort of the moment that changed everything for me. I was human, but it was the first time I chose something that  _ I _ wanted. That made me realize I had worth. It was such a haze, you know, before that. Only seeking what was in front of me, nothing more. After that, well, I started seeing… more. Allowed myself to want. To open.” He turned on his side a little. 

Demyx felt the air between them spark. He touched Ienzo’s face, the dustiness of his cheek, and kissed him again. 

“What was it like for you?” Ienzo asked for a moment. “In the beginning?”

“Well… I wasn’t going to. But I didn’t want to be a coward. I guess by then I’d decided to change, too. But it was like… don’t move.” He pressed their lips together, not really kissing him at all. “Like that.”

“Not much of anything, was it?”

“It was your first. You weren’t going to be an instant expert.” He shifted a little, onto his side. 

“My memory is… hazier now. But I feel as if that’s been burned into my skin.”

His heart stuttered. “Mine too.”

Ienzo kissed him, more softly this time, catching his bottom lip. Demyx could remember a time when he had to think hard about this, but now everything felt so easy, so natural. He pulled a hand through Ienzo’s hair, which was a bit scratchy with dust. Demyx heard his breath catch. Ienzo pulled at his shoulder, guiding him down on top of him, and kissed at throat. “You taste like dust,” he said thickly.

Demyx laughed. “So do you. We’re filthy.” He returned to him, slipping an arm under his back, tugging the shirt away from Ienzo’s overwarm skin.They were both breathing hard, the night air fresh and needed. 

A slight pause. “So,” he said.

“So.”

Ienzo kissed him more fiercely now, and the sudden wave of want almost made him fall. Ienzo curved his leg up around his waist. Demyx felt his own hands trembling, the hard ground making his elbow hurt, but most of his focus was on the person he was holding and the tongue in his mouth (really, where did Ienzo learn to do  _ that _ ?). He slid his hand down between his legs, over the fabric, and Ienzo pulled away with a gasp.

Demyx could barely get enough breath to form words. “Did you… did you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “I--we’re outside.”

“Do you really think someone’s going to find us all the way up here? If that balcony couldn’t hold  _ you _ , I doubt it’ll hold Aeleus.” Demyx couldn’t see his face; it was too dark. “Plus it’s kind of dark.”

“You’re right.” Then, in a different tone of voice, “You’re  _ right _ .” He pulled Demyx close, and then he was doing that thing again, with his mouth, and Demyx was actually a little dizzy. He let his hand slip below the waistband of Ienzo’s slacks, unbuttoning them but leaving them on (it was just a little too cold to justify being naked, regardless of how turned on they were). He could feel it, the hardness of him, steady and vital. Demyx heard Ienzo's breathing pick up, soft and excited, and felt him fumbling at his jeans as well. It was a little weird, to be touched through the fabric, but muffled in a way that only aroused him more. 

He slipped Ienzo’s dick out of his underwear, into the open space between them, running his thumb gently along the underside, gratifying in the small sound he heard. Ienzo seemed to be struggling with the buttons. “Need help?”

“This always happens,” he said. “I become so--”

“It’s okay. I like it.” He took his dick out so Ienzo could touch him too. It  _ did _ feel a bit strange like this, but he was at the point where he didn’t care. 

For a moment they were just hands and breath and touch, slow at first but then with more urgency, until the tension inside him was wound so tightly it almost hurt. He heard Ienzo gasp again, out of surprise almost, and feeling the heat of him was too much. He caved, the shock of endorphins replacing the dust and the strangeness of the whole thing. 

"That was… that was it," Ienzo said breathlessly. He kissed him once. "Did you…?"

"Yeah, I just did." He shifted his weight a little, feeling more acutely the sweat and the dust and the weight of his clothing. He tucked it back in and thought he heard Ienzo do the same.

"Lay down," Ienzo said. "Relax. We  _ are _ going to be here for a while."

Demyx lay down against him, listening to the soft  _ thump _ of his heart. Ienzo ran his hands through his hair. "Pull the… the blanket over us. It'll be too cold."

"I don't anticipate sleeping well. I'd almost rather wait for it to get light." He sighed. "I admit, I can't wait to take a nice warm bath."

"Me too."

"I'm… glad we did this," he said. "You're right, I do get stuck in my head too much. It doesn't hurt to find some adventure. Even small ones."

"That's what I'm here for."

"...We do balance one another out."

Demyx took a deep breath. "I am  _ not _ looking forward to finding a way down."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out. We always do."

He smiled, feeling more and more exhausted.

"Sleep, love," Ienzo said. "I know you're tired."

"You wore me out."

"I'm getting better at that."

He felt filled with such love. Sometimes it struck him more than others. He gave Ienzo a squeeze, so grateful for all the pieces that had allowed them to be together.

And then he slept.


	31. In Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo catches the flu.

He’d truly felt strange all day. Something wasn’t right.

The fatigue was weighing him down. He found it hard to focus on the task of the day--helping Ansem proof lines of code. A hot headache bloomed behind his eyes, thick and horrible. Ienzo wasn’t pleased to excuse himself, but he knew he would be just about useless. 

He made himself tea, tried to sweat out the inevitable illness, but all he did was make himself hot and irritable. 

He’d been taking considerably better care of himself, but still he’d fallen sick anyway.

Ienzo lay on the couch under a blanket, shivering a bit. Beans curled against his hipbone, her warmth welcome. What he should really do was get into bed and call Demyx, but Ienzo knew he was busy enough as is--he was filling in for Aerith today--and besides, he could deal with being ill. And he would go to bed--once he found the energy.

What time was it? Had he fallen asleep? It was as though time had clipped, which was concerning. Where had he put his phone? Goodness, it was all the way over by the door. It might as well have been on another world. 

_ Just get up, Ienzo. _

His elbows were shaky, and they ached. He cursed his corporeality. What was the point of a body if it continuously broke down? Sweat crawled along his hairline, both hot and cold. Was it the tea that did this? Merely a fever? His thought processes were muddy at best, and he felt he might vomit.

It had gotten dark; when had that happened? The door creaked, louder than he thought possible. 

“Oh… hey, sorry. I thought you were asleep. Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

A lamp flicked on, blinding him and sending a flare of pain through his head. He might’ve said something, but he forgot it immediately. He heard the bathroom door shut, water running. It could’ve been an hour, or ten minutes, before Ienzo felt a cold hand against his cheek. “Geez, you’re out of it,” Demyx said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not… well.” Things were dangerously sheeny. “I was going to call you--”

“Couldn’t get up?”

“...No.” A wave of shame broke over him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ve got me, right? I’ll patch you up.” He slid his arms under Ienzo, hefting him up. A shock of dizziness made everything go gray for a minute. “God, you’re warm.”

Ienzo felt the bed under him, and his sweater being tugged off. “...What?”

“You’re overheating in all these layers.”

Ienzo could not recall putting on more than one, but evidently he had. 

“Let me take a look at you.” Demyx touched his forehead. “Bet you feel pretty achy, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve been dealing with the flu all day. You’re basically a textbook case. I must’ve carried it in with me. Sorry.”

“...How bad is it?”

He exhaled heavily. “You’re at about forty now. If I had to guess.”

“...Fuck.”

He laughed a little. “I can fix it, okay?” 

The next thing he knew he was being given a glass of something sour. He flinched.

“I know it sucks,” Demyx said, “But we’ve gotta get your fever down.”

He was able to get it down, as well as some other kind of pill. Demyx had explained it to him, he was sure, but his mind felt like a sieve.

“Bet you feel quite a bit woozy,” he said. 

“I don’t recall ever feeling like this before.”

“Well, don’t worry. It should pass in a few hours. Maybe you should sleep, to make time go faster?”

“I do worry.”

Demyx’s face came into focus for a moment. “About what? I’ve got you.”

“What if I were… to…” He was shivering now. “...become delusional, like Ansem?”

He smoothed Ienzo’s hair away from his face. “Well, if you did, I’m right here, okay?”

“But…”

“But what?”

Ienzo felt his eyes watering. “I’m not sure.”

He squeezed his hand. “Babe, it’s okay.” A pause, then, “Do you… do you feel lost like that?”

“I don’t think so.” His body was so heavy and so cold. He tightened the covers around his shoulders. “I still… have nightmares. I feel they may be much worse while I’m--”

“Try to ride this out, okay? Take a few deep breaths.”

“I don’t like the way this feels.” His voice sounded outside of himself.

“It’ll pass. It’ll be over before you know it. Just let the medicine do its work, okay?”

His breath caught. He pressed his face into the pillow. Demyx rubbed his back through the covers.

“I think you have a great excuse to have a good cry,” he said softly. “I’ll even pretend it didn’t happen.”

Ienzo’s lips twitched in an uneven smile. “You shouldn’t have married me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not… you’re too…” He heard the sob more than felt it. 

“Baby…” Demyx kissed his forehead. “You’re still so warm. Let me…” Ienzo heard him wring something out, felt the cold cloth on his face. “It’s just the fever, twisting things. The more you stress about it, the worse it will get.”

“How do you do this all the time?” he asked. “Take care of people. It must be so exhausting.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Do you regret it?”

Demyx thought about this for a long time. He ran a hand through his hair, flipping the heavier middle part left and right again. “...No,” he said at last. “It feels good, getting rid of that pain. I never realized how heavy apathy is. You know?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. 

“It takes work, to not care,” Demyx said. “I’m too… I’m too tired.”

“I suppose that is wise.”

“Mm.” 

The pain in his body was lessening. “Oh, goodness, I’ve probably gotten you sick too.”

“I’ll take it. You’re still pretty cute, even when you’re a mess.”

“You flatter me.” Ienzo bit his lip. 

“...I took one of the cures, anyway. In case. Get ahead of it, right?”

“Don’t give up on me,” he mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you’re just a little delirious. It makes things… weird. Like, the depression. It’s not… your reality.” He looked so tired.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. Like what?”

“Like…” He was feeling heavy. “Like… I don’t know.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Lay down with me?”

“Yeah, I should… I’m exhausted.”

Was he delirious, or did Demyx sound sad? 

He drifted… and he woke suddenly, covered in sweat. 

“Oh good,” Demyx said. “Your fever broke.”

The world was clearer, but not quite sharp. Ienzo sat up. “Did you get any sleep?”

“A little. I was worried. You were burning up there for a while.”

Ienzo took his hand. They were cold, a bit clammy. "I was just ill."

"I know. I…" Demyx laughed a little, but there was a dark undercurrent to it. "It's hard to see you like this, you know. Helpless. It reminds me of…"

Ienzo took a deep breath. "That affected you a whole lot more than you ever admitted, huh?"

"It shouldn't."

"But it did." Ienzo reached for his hand. The sheets were damp, cool--with his sweat, he realized, and he shuddered. 

"I…" Demyx rested his face in his hand. "I feel like I keep going back to this. I  _ know _ you were just sick, but I still…" He exhaled. "I see it too much. In my head. You were… you were  _ dying. _ For me. I… the thought of losing you… is that codependent?"

He tried to think, but his mind felt like sludge. "I don't think so. There are… layers as to why you feel this way. All those people you lost then… that's just below the surface." There was a flash of something like insight. "Is that why you do this? So nobody else dies?"

"Maybe? Is that a… good reason?" He exhaled shakily. "I… I don't know. It's a lot of pressure and I don't know how to  _ not  _ take it personally. This just… reminds me of that." He looked towards Ienzo. "...I shouldn't be talking about this now. You probably feel like shit."

"I don't feel great."

"...Sorry."

"It's okay. Don't be ashamed."

He nodded, sniffling a little. "Let me, um. Get you something."

"You should talk to Aerith about this. Maybe she can help you more than I."

Demyx handed him another glass of medicine. "Maybe. Did you… did you have any dreams?"

"Not that I can recall. Nor do I recall falling asleep. Which I suppose is a mercy." He propped himself up, his arms shaky and sore. "Why don't you get some rest? I'm alright now. Things might feel a bit better. You tend to get grouchy when you don't have enough sleep, which as of late is quite often."

Demyx nodded. Sometimes the knots of their pain were easy to unravel; this was not one of those times. "You'll wake me up? If you need something?"

"...I also plan on going back to sleep. But yes." He squeezed Demyx's hand. "I love you."

"I… I love you too." He leaned in and kissed Ienzo before he could pull away.

"You're most certainly going to catch it now," he said.

"Eh, I've been breathing your air for hours."

For a long moment, Ienzo watched him settle. It occurred to him--not for the first time--that love couldn't solve their issues. Demyx had to work things out on his own.

Ienzo may have just been prone for several hours, but he felt like he was also witnessing something helpless. He exhaled. He was not in the headspace to be able to deal with this.

He rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

Ienzo did feel noticeably better when he woke again. It was midafternoon, if the light was anything to go by. There was an unpleasant film all along his skin, from the fever. The first thing he needed was to bathe; then the inevitable, tedious process of cleaning the place down. 

He heard the slight, soft pluck of Demyx's sitar; he was already awake, on the couch, his left hand wandering aimlessly along the frets. In the bright sunlight, Ienzo could see the glint off his wedding ring. It was a bit dazzling, hypnotic.

He figured he must still be rather ill.

Ienzo stood, feeling some degree of vertigo. 

Demyx's head snapped up. "Sorry--did I wake you?"

"No. I heard it in my sleep. Quite pleasant, actually." He stretched. He never did like the way sickness felt, the way it made his body yet more alien.

"How do you feel?"

"Better. Not good." He felt Beans rub against his legs and gave her a pat. "No work today?"

"No… I… figure I might be contagious. So here I am." He shrugged. "You should eat something. The antiviral's probably going to make your stomach upset."

"Nausea is the least of my worries." Ienzo sat next to him. "Something is very clearly going on with you."

"I…" Demyx cut himself off and inhaled. The sitar disappeared, almost hesitantly. "You're sick. You should be resting. You don't need more stress."

"Deflecting isn't going to do any good. We're sick, and we're stuck with each other. I am  _ going _ to make you speak with me." He touched Demyx's cheek; it was clammy. "So. What's wrong, hm?"

Demyx shied away from his touch. "I don't know, I feel so…" He trailed off. "I feel so fucking empty, okay? Is that what you want me to tell you?"

Ienzo froze. "For how long?"

He took a breath, sucking in his cheeks. "I did something stupid," he said. "I… I messed up. Someone died."

He blinked. "When?"

Demyx shrugged. 

"How long have you been sitting on this?"

"A… a week or so."

Ienzo bit down hard on the indignation he felt. "What exactly happened?"

He looked down at his empty hands. "It… there was this kid," he said slowly. "Couldn't figure out what was wrong with him for the life of me. Something degenerative? I don't know. I figured… it was something that would go away on its own. I should have asked for help, I should have asked for a second opinion, but he just…" Demyx covered his mouth. "I couldn't stop the memories."

Ienzo took his hand.

"Every time I feel like I'm getting better this is what happens. I get… stuck. I'm not… what if this keeps happening? Forever?"

"Maybe you should stop doing this. At least for a little while. You've burnt yourself out, and now you're more vulnerable to your triggers."

"Then what would I do?"

"What do you want?"

"The thing is, I do like helping people. I just--"

"You have to take care of yourself too. You have a little more to work on before you can withstand all the pressure in a healthy way. It's okay."

He really was getting worked up now; Ienzo could see the flush in his neck. "I fail all the time--"

"You're not failing."

He took a sharp breath, a few tears slipping free. Ienzo put his arms around Demyx. "You can cry, if you want. I'll pretend it didn't happen."

Ienzo felt him shudder. He cried for a while, almost worryingly, but finally Demyx pulled himself together. "I'm sorry," Demyx said.

"Oh, love. You did nothing wrong."

He wiped at his eyes. 

"I wish you would tell me about these things."

"I tried, I did, but--"

"It was less painful to protect yourself?"

He nodded. "But we're married, I should tell you everything--"

"Not necessarily. You're entitled  _ to some _ privacy, you know. But if something truly hurts… let me help you. It's just as important for you to tend to your mental health as the physical. Think of it like…" Ienzo bit his lip, which was dry and cracked from illness. "Think of yourself as your own patient."

"That's… not half bad advice. You're good at this."

"I'm good at you. That took some practice."

He smiled through the tears. 

Ienzo kissed his cheek. "Relax today. Catch your breath."

He snorted. "You should too. Mister Forty-degree fever. God, it was terrifying."

"Then it's a deal?"

"It's a deal."


	32. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx helps Ienzo with something in the library.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

“Thanks for helping me. It’s a pain to get the cart up all those stairs. Easier to just deal with it ourselves.”

Demyx hefted the books in his arms. “All I’m good for,” he remarked. “Why don’t you just start a library on our floor?”

He sighed heavily. “That would be ideal, but I don’t think the others would appreciate it. The card catalog is digital now. They’d  _ know. _ ”

The droll tone of his voice made Demyx laugh. “They’d get you?”

“Precisely. I’d rather not deal with Even’s whining if I don’t have to.” He shifted what he was carrying. “Let’s hurry. I’m technically supposed to be elbow-deep in that debugging right now.”

“...Or  _ Ansem _ will get you?”

He smiled. “You’re catching on.”

“Took me long enough. You guys are crazy. Aren’t these time limits kind of arbitrary?”

He shrugged. “If we don’t set ourselves deadlines, nothing ever gets done. I should know. If I didn’t pull myself away, I’d fret over the small details indefinitely. At some point you have to let things go.”

“That’s  _ deep. _ ”

Ienzo rolled his eyes. “Speaking of work. Don’t you have things to do today as well?”

“Not until after lunch.” There had been a lull in terms of everyone’s various injuries and maladies. He’d actually had fifteen seconds to breathe, to pick up Arpeggio for something more meaningful than a warm up. 

“You should take some time today to yourself,” Ienzo said softly. “You look exhausted.”

He laughed a little. “I’m sure the bags under my eyes are a good look.”

He smiled. “To think there’d be a day when I’d advise you not to work so hard.”

“Well, you’re one to talk.”

“...Quite.” He blushed. “If I’m being honest… I actually find this new work ethic of yours rather attractive.”

“Yeah?” He felt his face heat. “Well. That’s why I do it.”

“I doubt that.”

“ _ Part _ of it.”

They arrived at the section Ienzo had been pillaging. He glanced at the call number on the spines and began to place them. He reached to take the remainders from Demyx’s arms; when their hands brushed, he felt something like a chill. Ienzo seemed to feel it too; he looked a little startled. “That was… all of them,” he said. “I’m sure you’d like to go relax. Thanks for your help.”

Demyx bit his lip. “No problem. Anything for you, right?” He clutched his elbow. “So, um. Guess I’ll see you at dinner later.”

“I will be there.”

Demyx leaned in and kissed him once; for the space of a few heartbeats he tried to steel himself to pull away. Ienzo didn’t have time for these shenanigans, he reminded himself.

But Ienzo pulled him closer, kissing him with a little more insistence. Too soon, he pulled away. “I’m… sorry,” he said. “That probably wasn’t helpful.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”

“So.”

“So.”

Demyx wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they caught in the middle, messy but potent. He grasped at Ienzo’s waist and felt him pressing him back against the joint where the bookshelf met the wall. The material of the lab coat was a little scratchy against his hands as he let them wander over the planes of his back. Ienzo pulled away from the kiss and pressed his mouth against Demyx’s throat, the soft unweathered skin. “What the fuck are we doing,” he mumbled.

Ienzo looked up. “Do you mind?”

“No. God, no. This is just… not like you.” He gasped when he felt Ienzo pick up where he left off.

“Maybe that’s worth changing.” One of Ienzo's hands slid up into his hair, the other lingering at his hip. As gently as he could, Demyx reached down to loosen Ienzo’s ascot, to run his tongue along the scar. This was quickly going too far; as much as he tried to control himself, he could feel his body reacting, and the way they were pressed he could tell the same was happening to Ienzo. This either had to stop now or become something before they got too hot and bothered. Before he could find the reason to ask him what, exactly, he intended on happening here, he felt Ienzo’s hand slip from his hip to between his legs. He gasped a little.

“Look, I am… into doing this here with you,” Demyx asked, with difficulty--the muffled sensation of touch was almost too much, making him a bit dizzy. “Just… are you sure?”

He took a breath, almost like he was coming out of a trance. “Would that be… so strange?”

“No.” Demyx could feel his heartbeat in his ears. “No, just--” He kissed him, the rush of it breaking over him in a wave. He tasted vaguely minty, sort of sweet. Demyx fumbled with the catch on the lab coat, opening it, running his fingers over the smooth skin of his hip before sliding down below his waistband to his dick. He could just barely feel Ienzo pawing at his own jeans, unbuttoning them and slipping him out into the space between them, a space only blocked from view by the panel of his open coat. He did the same for Ienzo, struggling with buttons and a different kind of underwear. 

He could feel Ienzo’s tongue against his, every muscle in his body tense and alive. He ran his thumb along the underside of Ienzo’s dick, a faint shudder rolling through him. Demyx felt him begin to touch him too, not so hesitant or so gentle. He tightened his other arm around Ienzo, pulling him still closer. 

But fuck this was really happening. Something about the haphazard nature of it only turned him on more, and he quickened his grip on Ienzo. Ienzo gasped a little, drawing him back into a kiss, and Demyx knew they were really only a moment or two away from finishing. The tension inside of him was taut, almost too tempting, and Ienzo was touching him in just the right way--

A click interrupted them, a distant faraway sound. Ienzo tensed, looking over his shoulder quickly, his expression reddening more. “...Stupid,” he hissed to himself. “How could I have forgotten--Aeleus or Dilan on their rounds. They come through here this time of day.”

Demyx couldn’t help it--he laughed, and felt Ienzo clap a hand over his mouth.

“Be quiet,” he said. “If someone comes this way I want you to pull me closer. The jacket should cover anything up. Better to be caught kissing than--”

“Something more compromising?”

For a long moment they remained there, listening to the footsteps overhead, a little too close for comfort.

“Why don’t we just get dressed?” Demyx whispered.

“For me it would still be obvious,” he admitted.

“Yeah. Same.”

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only about two minutes, they heard the same door slam shut. “Oh thank goodness,” Ienzo breathed. “I swear I’ve never been more nervous in my life.”

A few beats of silence. If anything, the brush with danger had only turned him on again. He kissed Ienzo’s cheek and heard him exhale heavily.

“This is almost painful,” he said. “I dragged you into this--”

“Then let’s take care of that.”

It took a moment or two to find the same rhythm, kissing each other with an unexpected heat. Demyx could hear Ienzo gasping, and the pit in his stomach was only tightening. “I’m almost--” His hand dropped from the nape of Demyx’s neck to his pocket, fumbling for something, and he only barely saw the flash of white cloth before he felt it brush against the fingers he was using to touch him. Ienzo shuddered. Demyx knew without asking what had happened.

The tension inside of him went from nearly painful to actually painful; feeling his face warm further, he went to touch himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ienzo said, pushing his hand away and replacing it with his own. “I’m not going to drag you into this and not get you out.” He pulled him a little closer, tightening his grip, and Demyx couldn’t resist it anymore. He muffled the sound against Ienzo’s shoulder, the orgasm rocking through him, a feeling of cloth against his dick. Once it was through with, he felt a bit dizzy.

For a moment they dressed and neatened themselves in an embarrassed silence. Ienzo stuffed the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket, fixing the buttons. He cleared his throat. “I know you have a spell to clean one’s hands,” he said. “Do you think you could--”

“Oh. Sure.” He did it to both of them. “Never happened.”

He crossed his arms for a moment. “I… have no idea what came over me,” he admitted. “I… I felt like I had to do something--”

Demyx smiled. “You don’t need to justify yourself.” He bit his lip. “I always kind of figured… you’d want to try something again here in the library.”

“I am… incredibly predictable.”

Demyx laughed. “You call  _ that _ predictable?”

He shrugged, unable to make eye contact. 

He chucked him under the chin. “I… had fun,” he said slowly.

“I… I did too.” His hand trembled a little as he gestured. “I am still so… unaccustomed to such impulses.”

“It takes some getting used to.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Demyx touched his face. Ienzo met his eyes, something like shame coloring them. “Don’t be ashamed,” he said. 

“You know I’m not fond of losing control.”

“You felt pretty in control to me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Demyx put his hands on Ienzo’s shoulders. “Nobody got hurt. Nobody saw anything questionable. And we had a good time. I’d say it could be worse.”

He sighed. “You’re right. It’s clear I… still have some things to work on.”

“Hey. If you ever need some help? I’m here.” He winked.


	33. The Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a lazy Sunday.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.
> 
> Timeline--soon after short 4, "Gesture"

Ienzo was elbow-deep in the final climactic battle of  _ Shadow of the Morning Star. _ With all his other work, it had taken months to finish this series, to pull the final volume. The author was not exactly… concise.

He’d missed fiction like this--his first true love. There had been days and days of his childhood spent hiding, camped out somewhere desperately trying to finish a book before he was called away to his studies, chores, or missions. To be able to enjoy something of his own volition was a freedom he was still getting used to. Carving out time for himself was difficult, but necessary, and he truly did think his mental health was better for it.

He heard a sharp  _ snap _ , a discordant  _ twang _ , from the other end of the room. “Ah, fuck. Oh, god damn it.”

Ienzo sighed. “Are you alright over there?”

Demyx sucked on a small cut on his finger. “Broke a string. I was  _ this close _ to finishing this piece of shit, too.”

“Demyx.”

“Fine, I know, it’s not a piece of shit.”

“Won’t it fix itself?” The words pulled him back, hypnotically. Demyx usually always curated his practice to be either something easy to tune out or listen to when Ienzo read in the same room as him; but without Arpeggio he wouldn’t have a way to occupy himself.

Which meant Ienzo couldn’t finish his book, which was a bad thing. “It’ll take a few hours,” Demyx said. “It gets pissed off.” He always spoke about Arpeggio like it had feelings. He got up and flopped onto the bed next to Ienzo.

“I’m about twenty pages from finishing this series,” he said, knowing all too well where this was going. “Please occupy yourself until then.”

Demyx huffed, but pulled out his phone and fussed with it.

He drank in the words eagerly. The ending of this story was one of his favorites, because it  _ didn’t _ tie up so neatly the way things were wont to in fantasy. It was realistic, or at the very least believable. He felt himself getting choked up and held the book for a moment after he finished it, his eyes shut tight.

“Good book?” Demyx asked.

“Good  _ series _ .”

“I would hope so--it’s only eleven billion volumes long.” He smiled a little. “They got their happily ever after?”

“No. That’s what I like about it. Things are still messy--but it’s cathartic. They all had to  _ earn _ where they ended up. Rather than, you know, the typical ending of such fantasies.” He lay down, savoring it. 

“Like us,” Demyx said.

“Well, we don’t get an ending--aside from death.”

“That’s  _ deep _ .”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s true. Our lives are not contained so neatly. They just  _ are _ . Here it is. Go.” He gestured vaguely. “Figure out a way to fill the next sixty years.”

“You will.”

“I know I will.”

Demyx squeezed his hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m afraid my existential dread is not very attractive.”

“I think you’re pretty okay. Cuddle with me?”

Ienzo acquiesced and felt himself being pulled close. He breathed Demyx’s smell, soap and shaving cream and something gingery. He pushed hard against the anxiety. He heard a soft  _ whump _ as Beans jumped up to join them. The arms around him helped. It almost always took work to pull himself back into his body, away from the internal, the intellectual. He rested his face against the crook of Demyx’s shoulder and felt him rub small circles into his back.

They’d lived together for a few months now, but it was still something of a shock to know they could just  _ exist _ in the same space. He was so accustomed to any touch immediately leading to the next thing, in the hurry to finish making love before being caught, or pulled away. Perhaps it was this thought, but the air seemed to shift a little, and Ienzo leaned over to kiss him. Demyx responded gently before breaking it off. “So, question.”

“So, answer.”

“Do you want to just make out for a while?”

“...I would like that very much.”

So for a while they did just that, all slowness, no end goal in sight, a mere desire for one another’s company. Time seemed to become nebulous, the fizz of his anxiety being replaced by a sort of thoughtlessness. Demyx’s hands tangled in his hair; Ienzo wrapped a leg around his waist, a motion he wasn’t conscious of until it had already happened. Demyx rolled over and brought Ienzo on top of him. The cat, at this shift, darted over to an unoccupied corner of the bed. 

Demyx laughed a little. “Beans is sick of our shit.”

“Can you blame her? She hardly gets a moment of peace.” There was a moment where they just looked at one another before Ienzo finally caved and kissed him again. 

This was probably what most people went through; an aimless exploration of one another, rather than going straight for the jugular, as it were. It was almost as if his body wasn’t sure what to do. He felt Demyx’s hand slide down his back to cup his ass, bringing with it a row of goosebumps. Ienzo pressed a little harder against him and was able to tell instantly he wasn’t the only one feeling this. It was a little uncomfortable, with clothing, but grinding up against one another was the most promising sensation yet. He heard Demyx gasp a little in response and felt his tongue sliding into Ienzo’s mouth.

This should feel strange, right? But it didn’t. He found himself becoming increasingly focused on the point where they were connected, rather than the rest of it, the air shifting, becoming rawer. Already he could almost sense the pit of tension in the pit of his stomach. 

“Ienzo?”

He opened his eyes. “What?” He sounded breathy, a mess.

His face was flushed. “I’m dying here.”

He fought for breath. “We’re on the same page.”

When they kissed this time it was with more heat than before. He fumbled for the hem of Demyx’s shirt, undid the buttons of his own with shaking fingers, pulling it all off. He pressed his lips against Demyx’s scars and heard him stifle a moan. “Pants,” he said instead.

“Right--ah--I’m distracted.”

He hummed instead, helping Ienzo out of his slacks and underwear. The buttons of Demyx’s suddenly seemed complicated, but finally he got it all off. Demyx kissed at his throat, running his tongue along the scar, and for a moment Ienzo thought he might faint; it was much harder to support himself, elbows trembling. 

How odd--and delicious--to just give control over to his body. In it, the barest flash of an idea. “So, I, um.”

He touched Ienzo’s cheek, his eyes full of such softness. “What?”

“Could I try something?”

He blushed further. “Like what?”

Ienzo was struggling for breath. He gripped at the sheets. “I want to… go down on you. It’s not fair for me not to--”

“I don’t care about that--”

“I want to. I mean I  _ really _ want to…”

He chuckled a little. “Okay.”

He nodded. His skin practically felt like it was buzzing. Ienzo kissed him once on the mouth before returning to the scars, lowering bit by bit, feeling both not in his body and yet so present. He took Demyx’s dick into his hand and stroked it, the soft noise he made only heightening the tension inside Ienzo.

“Not too much,” he said, almost through his teeth.

He settled down between his thighs, trying to quiet the trembling of his hands. He focused instead on the skin of his legs, the soft defined muscle, the fact that he was privileged enough to be able to touch it, kiss it. After a moment of struggling to gather his nerve, Ienzo took the tip of his dick into his mouth.

Demyx had been right about one thing; it didn’t feel nearly as strange as Ienzo had thought, was actually a somewhat natural feeling, only helped by Demyx’s sharp gasp and his own almost dangerous arousal. Demyx grasped at his shoulders, his hair. He tried to remember how it felt to have it done, to copy what had been best. He was a bit clumsy, he was sure, and at times it was hard to breathe. He was taken aback by how good it felt for  _ him _ ; shockingly intimate, and seeing Demyx unraveling in a way he’d never before seen only heightened his own arousal. He wondered if it were possible to spontaneously combust, and if he were rapidly getting to that point. 

“Fuck,” he heard, and broke away.

“Are you alrig--”

“ _ Please _ don’t stop.”

He smiled. “So polite.” And returned to what he had been doing. He could feel Demyx’s hips arching a little. He ran his tongue along the tip of it and felt the grip on his shoulder tighten substantially. 

“Wait,” Demyx said hoarsely. Ienzo understood and pulled away, taking his dick back in his hand. He barely touched Demyx before he felt him come, caving at last, breathing hard in a vaguely gaspy way. 

His own arousal was all the more noticeable, sharpening into an ache. His hands were shaking.

“Come here,” Demyx said, still breathless. “Lay down.”

He settled back by the headboard, his pulse racing. Demyx kissed his cheek, his throat, but perhaps he sensed Ienzo’s own urgency because he didn’t linger much, stroking his dick only once or twice before going down on him as well. “This probably won’t take long,” he said, mostly as a warning. The rest of his focus was displaced. He grasped at Demyx’s hands, needing something concrete to hold onto, to try to enjoy this for as long as possible.

If anything, he’d only gotten better with practice, his tongue finding the most sensitive parts with precision. For a moment Ienzo could actually feel tears in his eyes. This was all rapidly becoming too much, a creep of overstimulation only heightening his need. He tried to restrain himself, to keep control, but it was quickly slipping away from him. 

Demyx broke away, almost causing him to completely lose his mind. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can… go ahead and… do it inside me.”

It took effort to speak. “You sure?”

“I like it,” he admitted.

He could process it later; right now he just needed relief. Demyx took him again, and Ienzo felt the knot of tension tightening painfully. The second he tried to relax a little it was happening, undoing him completely, the sweet shock of it pushing him completely into silence, into an overstimulation that actually reduced him to tears, a pleasure so intense he was raw.

Demyx wiped at his mouth. “Babe? You alright?”

He nodded. He sat up a little, trying to quiet the tremors that had overtaken him.

“...You’re crying.”

He didn’t trust his hands enough to text. 

He scootched over to him and squeezed his hand. “Was it too much?”

He nodded, holding his fingers slightly apart to indicate “a little.”

“I’m sorry--”

Ienzo shook his head. 

“Did you like it?”

He nodded again. 

“I know you’re not used to… going at it for so long.”

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. 

“I should’ve realized--”

Ienzo pressed a finger to Demyx’s lips. 

He blushed as well. “You did really good. I mean. You did well.” He bit his lip. “Can I hold you? Or is it too--”

He considered. His eyes were still watering. But stability might help. He nodded once. They settled back against the sheets. Ienzo could taste salt--from his tears, from Demyx. 

He laughed a little, an awkward sound. “Can’t believe I made you come so hard you cried.”

He scoffed.

Demyx kissed his forehead, chucked him under the chin. “Just relax for a little while. Pull yourself together. God, I’m still… shaking. It’s one of those things that… I  _ thought _ I knew what it would be like? But I… my body just… god, sometimes it feels like we invented sex, you know?”

He laughed. 

Demyx was quiet for a time, giving Ienzo the mental space to pull himself together. Finally, he did. “I’m sorry,” Ienzo said. “That was likely frightening.”

“Hey, no need to be sorry.”

“ _ One _ hour spent making out and I unravel in an instant.”

He snorted. “It was a lot longer than an hour.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Ienzo. It was the middle of the afternoon when this started. It’s dark out now.”

Befuddled, he looked over to the window. “No wonder I feel so tired.”

Demyx laughed at him. 

“I’m so used to these things… happening quickly. The lack of instant gratification likely confused my body.” He sighed. “I feel like a teenager.”

“Not your fault this is the first time this is happening.”

“I suppose it was… a lovely way to spend the afternoon.”

“Oh  _ hell _ yes.” He chucked him under the chin. “Can I kiss you? Would that be gross?”

“I think we’re beyond that point.”

He kissed him once. Ienzo could actually  _ taste _ it, a warm animalness. Then again, that was all people really  _ were _ , a bundle of instincts with a heart in charge of it all. Demyx stood. “I am so fucking thirsty.” 

“I almost feel like I need something stronger.”

“What, a joint?” He laughed. 

“Take off this edge. As it were.” His skin was still so disconcertingly tender. “I don’t think tea will cut it.”

“What has gotten  _ into _ you today? Weed and blowjobs? You’re full of surprises.”

Ienzo smiled. “Always.”


	34. Scarred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Even try to deepen their friendship.

“Knock knock. You busy?” 

Even looked up from the computer, startled. “Is it that time already?”

Demyx looked at his phone. “...Twenty minutes later, actually.”

Even sighed and shut the laptop. “Your punctuality always did leave something to be desired.”

He shrugged. “And yet, you’re not even ready.”

He stood and brushed out imperceptible wrinkles in his lab coat. “What more do I need?”

“You’re going to wear that out?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Demyx shrugged. “I mean, we’re going to lunch, not doing a supply run. I doubt pho is going to explode all over you. Unless you’re a messy eater.”

Even sighed. He slid off the coat, revealing a thick turtleneck. “Are you pleased now?”

“...Aren’t you going to be too cold in that?”

Even scowled. “Don’t you have better things to worry about than my choice of clothing?”

Demyx put up his hand. “Easy. It’s like not a big deal.”

He put a hand to his head. “Let’s get this over with.”

“...That’s the spirit.” They walked down through the castle, the same path Demyx treaded more or less every day. He could do it in his sleep--he practically  _ had _ , on more than one occasion. “Hey, when was the last time you even left this place, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t need for much.”

Demyx noticed his aversion to the question. “Gotta get some fresh air. It’s good for you.”

“I have a medical degree. I’m perfectly aware of what’s good for me.”

Demyx had to take a moment to smother the frustration. “I’m just trying to make some conversation. It’d help if you didn’t snipe at me after everything I say.”

Even jumped a little. “I am… sorry. It’s habit.”

They lapsed into a sort of silence. Demyx wondered if this were all a mistake, if the connection they’d forged a few weeks ago was just smoke and mirrors. He didn’t even know where to begin. How were they supposed to fill a whole hour or more with talk? He was almost beginning to panic.

“...Things are going well with your work, I presume? I think I’d have heard otherwise.”

Demyx shrugged. “Haven’t killed anybody.”

“Prior to working with Ansem, I was an intern at one of the small medical practices. I know that it’s tough, thankless work--hence why I left it.” He looked over at Demyx, his acidic green eyes glinting. “Good on you for going through with it.”

“It’s… weird,” Demyx admitted. “I feel like I’m kind of existing in two ways at once, you know.”

“Indeed. I’d have figured you’d devote yourself to music. You clung to it wholeheartedly--pardon the pun.”

Demyx bit his lip. “It’s still part of who I am, but… to focus on creation and performance, right now? It all feels a little…”

“Indulgent?”

He nodded. “I’ve been selfish for long enough.”

“You’ve grown very quickly.”

“So everyone says.” Demyx took him to a small pop up which had sprung out of nowhere in the marketplace. For a second, he saw Even’s face fall before he masked it. “This place has the best bone broth you’ve had in your life.”

“Are you… certain?” He flinched a little, in distaste. “It all seems a little… haphazard.”

Demyx laughed. “Even,  _ Radiant Garden _ is haphazard.”

“...I suppose that’s a fair point. Fine. Well, it’s your dime, why should I care?”

They got their soup and sat at one of the tables the stall had set up. This time of day, there weren’t too many people out and about--Demyx had done it that way deliberately--and yet Even seemed a bit jumpy. 

“I suppose this is the sort of thing you and Ienzo get up to?” Even asked.

“Yeah. He’s actually been into trying new things.”

“Good. It’d be good for him. You too, I suppose. Then again you were more worldly.”

Demyx snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Even gestured vaguely with his chopsticks. “It’s true. You must’ve been thrown goodness-knows-where. Your tentative designation of reconnaissance lead wasn’t for nothing. You had to have adapted, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting across from me. That boy? Even in the Organization days, good luck prying him away from those books. And now it’s that cursed gummiphone.”

“I dunno. I think they’re useful. How do you think I get my calls? Probably lifesaving, compared to how it used to be.”

“Oh, I never said it wasn’t  _ handy. _ But it’s murder on the eyes.”

“...Yeah, I think I’m probably going to need glasses at some point. It’s not that bad yet.” Demyx noted with relief that he was eating steadily. “...What  _ was _ he like, as a kid?”

“...Oh, not quite like anything I’ve ever seen,” Even said, with a small smile. “Brilliant beyond compare--but you know this. On the other hand… inquisitive and stubborn to a fault. The boy was  _ constantly _ underfoot. Not much interested in playing. Loved to disappear at the worst possible times. I’d found him wandering on his own when the Unversed were still in full swing; he nearly gave me a heart attack more than once, especially considering how his parents passed. He’s quite a lot like my son, independent to a fault.”

Demyx froze. “You mean he is your son, right? Like adoptive?”

Even seemed startled as well. “I… did have a biological child, once upon a time,” he admitted. 

He blinked. “ _ Really _ ?”

“Why else would Ansem entrust his care to me?”

“I mean, I just…” Demyx was flabbergasted. “You?”

“I’m confused. What about this is surprising?”

“I’ve known you for years and this is the first time I’ve ever heard about this--from anyone.”

Even seemed to go far away. “It’s not something I broadcast,” he said. “As I said, I do not seek pity.”

Demyx felt the wave of sadness. “...He didn’t make it,” he said.

“No,” he admitted slowly. “When he was about five years old, there was… an accident in my home.” His voice went somewhere else, took on a distance Demyx had never heard. “An explosion due to electrical failure--rather ironic, considering my own death. Both he and my spouse were… immolated. I was told it was relatively instant.”

“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t known Even was once married, either. It was an odd thought, to imagine him in love; then again, tragedy and trauma would harden anyone, and they’d both taken their fair share of it.

Even shrugged. “It is something I’ve grieved since--rather, trying to.”

“...I never knew.”

Even sipped at the broth. “Events that made it all the easier to slip into work… to push people away. Cauterized by time… and darkness.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Let me tell Ienzo in my own time, if it’s all the same,” Even said. “He and I… there’s love, but also bad blood.”

Demyx was a bit shaken. A lot of their past was making much more sense--but at the same time, if Even  _ knew _ how it felt to lose a child, how could he justify what he’d done to Ienzo? Had he been hardened by then already? Or had he been he trying to spare Ienzo pain?

“...Are you put off by your lunch?” Even asked gently.

“No… just thinking.”

“...Hard work, I imagine.”

Demyx gladly took the way out. “Always.”

* * *

After that, they headed home. 

“I feel like a hermit,” Even admitted. “That small amount of stimuli, and I feel frazzled.”

“You have to get out more.”

“Well, perhaps some other time you can tell me your woes, and not the other way around,” he said dryly.

“Uh… maybe. But can I ask you--”

“Yes?”

“Your… arm, when I healed it. Those scars. Are you okay?”

Even’s expression went blank. 

Demyx took a quick breath. “I’m sorry. It’s obviously none of my business.” He waited for the shoe to drop.

Even chuckled a little. “Haven’t you your own stories to tell?” He gestured vaguely towards Demyx’s torso. “I’ve seen them. They can’t all be from Sora, brutish as he is.”

Demyx realized he’d grasped at the scars, and made his arm fall. “Well, no. Even when I was a kid, I was never… much good at fighting.” He couldn’t make eye contact. “Turns out scars don’t grow very well.”

Even sighed. “No,” he conceded. 

There were a few moments of silence, and they both pretended to look over the postern railing at the town. 

Even tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I am not… unfamiliar, with such infighting,” he said. The words seemed to hurt as they came out; his lip curled. “I suppose, in a way, we are both victim to a cause we were once loyal to.”

Demyx wanted to ask him what he meant, but he knew this was already hard for Even to admit. “I guess so.”

“I presume this happened during the war?”

“And before that.”

“I find myself feeling the ripples.” He leaned heavily against the railing. “Becoming Vexen again just put off the inevitable. Only very recently have I allowed myself to change, to process. I’m not sure which is worse; feeling everything at once, or coming into it slowly.”

“I’d say both blow.”

“...Indeed.”

Demyx looked at him. In the bright wintery light, he could see more clearly the gray in Even’s hair. “Do you feel… more human?”

He considered this. “There’s no way to… concretely qualify this, which is frustrating, to say the least.”

“I don’t care about the science.”

He smiled for just a second. “You never did.” He took a breath, then hesitated. “That night Ienzo came to me--”

Demyx blinked. “When?”

“Oh, this was months ago now--back when he was still working on the garden. He was more upset than I’d ever seen him, and you know how distressed he must be to physically show it. We spoke… well, we spoke of how I betrayed him.”

He frowned. “You mean with Ansem and the realm of darkness?”

“Amongst other things.” He ran his finger along the railing, disrupting the thin vein of frost. “I did my best to console him. But after he left--” Even cut himself off.

After a moment, Demyx prompted, “After he left?”

“I felt such a pain like I’ve never felt before.” He touched his chest. “For a moment, I was certain my time had come, but then, there was just… I hesitate to call it wholeness, because I hardly feel stable. Less of an absence, I suppose.”

A faint breeze brought up the smell of woodsmoke. “...Your heart,” Demyx said. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He blinked. “That’s why you asked me about my memories. You wanted to know if feeling like that was normal.”

“I am… not quite so clever as of late.”

“Sorry… I feel like a real jerk now.”

“You couldn’t have known.” He looked at his palms, pale in the cold air. “I was hoping humanity would give me clarity. But here I am. I feel more a shell than ever.”

He took a deep breath. “I know what you mean. I still feel that way sometimes. Psychological consequences, you know.”

“Indeed.” Even rubbed his arms briefly. “Do these things improve?”

Demyx bit his lip. “I’d like to say, yeah they do, but… I don’t know, Even. It’s what you make of it.”

“...I see.” He straightened up a little. “Best shore up, then. No use wasting more time wallowing.”

“I guess not. If you ever…” He hesitated. “If you ever want to… talk about it, I’m here.”

“Does debasing oneself so really help?”

“Yes. It does.”

Even stared at him for a long moment. “Alright,” he said. “You’ve been right about… far too much lately.”

“Turns out I’m not so bad about this human crap.” Demyx took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing.”


	35. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes. Those at Radiant Garden's castle continue to change and grow. Demyx and Ienzo live out the rest of their lives.

There was a sense that things had finally settled, finally calmed. Their days, though they were busy, found a sort of comfort. Time seemed to pass quickly, the weeks becoming months… becoming years. It seemed like Demyx blinked and turned twenty-five. He woke up with Ienzo’s cold feet pressed against his calves. “...Do you have to,” he mumbled.

“I can’t help it. You’re so warm. Like a furnace.” He blinked slowly, like a cat. “Happy birthday.”

“I’m old now,” he said.

He scoffed a little. “Hardly. I’m afraid things are barely beginning.” He pulled him close, spooning him.

“...Are you actually trying to cuddle, or are you just cold?”

“Does it matter?”

Demyx sighed heavily. “Come here. Bastard.”

* * *

Demyx wasn’t sure anything would ever be “easy.” He carried the memories within him, and every now and again they would rise and wrap around him, like vines. He’d jolt awake, covered in sweat, convinced that this was it. But then he’d return to earth, usually with Ienzo there to console him, or vice versa. This was home; they were comfortable with each other, worn into one another like stones in a river. Demyx watched Ienzo bloom, coming into his own so slowly, until the shadow of pain faded from his eyes. 

It was a slow, tedious process, this healing. Demyx guessed he too must be getting somewhere. He felt like less of a stranger than before, like the world was more real.

They worked for the committee in a sort of tandem; and then for the city council, once they were elected, when a real government started to form. The work seemed to suit Ienzo; the planning, and brainstorming, and to a degree the coding too. Demyx figured using those abilities made him feel more comfortable in himself. He felt that way too. Caring for people always had the opportunity to be harrowing, but with the bad came some good. The deaths and losses were accompanied with the new lives. Pain came with catharsis.

In their spare moments, they walked without a destination. “It’s often hard to internalize how much time is passing,” Ienzo admitted.

“How so?”

“Well--there’s so much to do still. So much opportunity for growth, for betterment. Yet… for example, this morning before you woke I was looking out the apartment window. We’ve  _ built _ so much. The face of the town itself has changed. I… almost forget how much work has gone into it.”

“It’s easier when it’s work you like,” Demyx said, with a wink. 

“Much,” he admitted. “It helps when I know all I’m doing will only make lives easier… rather than harder.” He smiled a little. “I can see a sort of future, all of a sudden. Before there was merely noise.”

“...I know what you mean,” Demyx mumbled. “But we made it.”

Ienzo squeezed his hand. 

* * *

One of these mornings, Ienzo was brushing Beans, trying to curtail her seasonal shedding. “Getting chunky, aren’t you?” he mumbled to her, and the cat meowed in response.

Demyx barely looked up from Arpeggio. “We’re not double feeding her again, are we?”

“I don’t  _ think _ so. That’s what the schedule is for. Chunky, chunky.” Demyx could hear the cat purring. “Wait--” Ienzo began feeling at her stomach. Then, he laughed. “Come here.”

Demyx set the sitar down and came over. “What?”

“Feel her belly.”

Demyx did so. Sure enough, he could feel small little lumps inside of her. He laughed too. “Dilan did mention that there was a feral cat colony in the upper floors. I guess Beans found a boyfriend.”

Beans swished her tail, irritated at all the poking and prodding, so they let go.

Ienzo sighed. “We’re too young to be grandparents.” 

Over the next few weeks, she began building a nest in one of the rooms on the floor with stolen things--towels left to dry from their bathroom, the odd sock. One of these days she came up to Ienzo, meowed insistently, and led them to said room. In the nest were four tiny kittens. She climbed in with them and began grooming them. “I suppose I am her mother,” Ienzo said, with a shake of the head. “Good job, girl.”

She blinked.  
  
They ended up naming these other kittens similarly; Peanut, Clover, Lentil, and Tamarind, based mostly on their coat colors. They would see Beans toting them around by their scruffs, tiny scratchy kitten mews. But eventually these kittens grew up, and only came around their floor to see their mother, give her a rub, before disappearing into the rest of the castle. Beans, however, seemed perfectly content to remain a housecat. 

“She’s got a pretty sweet gig,” Demyx said, scratching her behind the ears. “Comfy bed, food without foraging. Two idiots to worship her. I wish I could be a cat.”

Ienzo laughed. 

* * *

This was their someday. Change was continuous and expected, but love remained constant. And while it didn’t and couldn’t solve anything, it was there to give them stability. 

“What do you want from life?” Ienzo asked him one rainy morning. Beans was curled at their feet in bed, purring contentedly.

Demyx turned onto his side. In this light, the thin chain of Ienzo’s scar was almost invisible. “Pretty deep question first thing in the morning.”

“Humor me, then.” He propped himself up on an elbow. 

“I’m not… sure,” he admitted. “I have everything I used to want.” He touched Ienzo’s cheek. “I’m kind of okay with letting things play out how they are.”

“You know, I think I am too,” Ienzo said. “All this aching and faffing about for a higher calling… maybe this is all life is. Quiet contentment. I have meaningful work to fill my days, I have you and my family. Truthfully, I don’t  _ need _ to ask for anything more than that.” He leaned forward and kissed him. “Let’s watch the world grow.”

* * *

In all this, something odd and funny.

As Demyx grew closer to Even, he was asked now and again for his help with the man's research project, surreally enough. Even was investigating the long-term affects of darkness on the body, the mind; he thought darkness might be something of an addiction and impact them similarly. Demyx didn't particularly want to think about it too hard, but it was good that Even again driven. Demyx helped him look at minds with his magic, as they no longer had equipment. Dilan was often there too, helping with this research. And so was Ansem, in his own time, though he was working less on the scientific and more with the council.

Demyx noticed things.

He might not do reconnaissance anymore, but that seemed to be one part of him that never quite went away--he was always observational, he guessed. Even and Ansem interacted differently. Things had shifted. They ignored each other less when they were all together, sniped at each other less. There was less tension; rather, tension of a different kind. Ansem looked at him with such _warmth,_ and once when he thought nobody was looking he rested a hand at the small of Even's back.

Oh.

Demyx actually had to excuse himself after he saw that. He went into the bathroom and laughed into his hands. He'd known the two men had been friends for longer than he'd been alive, that they'd raised Ienzo when he was little. It wasn't surprising at all. But it _was_ hilarious that after outing Ienzo those years ago, Even had a secret of his own to keep.

"You're not going to believe this," Demyx said, one day after dinner.

"I believe a great many things," Ienzo said, without looking up from his computer.

"Have you been paying attention to how Even's been acting lately?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I? He seems much the same as ever. Keeping himself busy."

Demyx leaned over the couch. He wasn't sure why he was being conspiratorial in their own home. "I'm pretty sure he and Ansem have a thing going on."

Ienzo paused. "No," he said.

"Uh, yeah."

He scoffed a little. "How can you be sure?"

Demyx presented his evidence. Ienzo raised his eyebrows.

"Huh," he said. Then, "oh, this is going to be delicious. He gave me such _hell_ for getting with you." He grinned widely. "Let me talk to him."

Sure enough, after some prodding Even admitted it was all true. Demyx was glad for them, but at the same time the thought of getting to needle an Even in love was too tempting. The next time he was asked to go down to the lab, he was ready to tease and cajole and be _incredibly_ annoying. 

If anything, Even seemed displeased to see him. He wrinkled his nose. "Apparently there are still some things that remain of the old you," he said. "Was it _quite_ necessary to inform Ienzo of my personal life--without asking me first?"  
  
Demyx laughed a little. "So it's true then?"  
  
He turned a bit pink, but his expression was neutral. "As I said. I don't think it's any of your business."  
  
"Why were you keeping it a secret?"  
  
"As if I need to flaunt such things," he said, waving his hand dismissively and turning back to the work at hand. "I'll leave that to you two."  
  
Demyx rolled his eyes. "Does it make you... happy?"  
  
Even looked up, as if confused he would ask. "Happiness is relative, I think," he said. Then, "I believe it is... only suitable these things happen now. Ansem and I have put one another through hell. There was a lot to mend for anything else to be realized. There still is. But I suppose... life is... not quite as heavy as it once was. And that's as much as you'll get from me."  
  
Demyx smiled a little. "Guess that officially makes you my dad too."

Even scowled. "Go on, then. We have a lot to do."  
  
"Sure, _dad_."

" _Boy_ \--"

* * *

They became older; Radiant Garden grew from something somewhat haphazard into a real city. Demyx was no longer a trainee, or an apprentice, but a full-fledged healer. Ienzo worked on a little bit of everything, but was mostly engrossed in developing mental health support with the new government. It was no longer always so easy to get out of bed; he also needed glasses now. It was only when he realized the first baby he’d delivered was now in second grade that he was conscious of how much had really changed. His thirtieth birthday loomed on the horizon; Ienzo wasn’t far behind. 

The passion was still there, bright and intense and impossible to reckon with; after one of these nights they lay, holding one another. Demyx ran his fingers along Ienzo’s throat, the scars that were no longer quite visible. “You remember that day I gave you a haircut, and you said that within seven years we’d have new bodies?”

“New cells. Yes.” He blinked. “It… it’s been that long?”

“Longer, actually.”

“Every day still feels so new,” he murmured. “Am I silly for feeling that way?”

“Not at all.” He stroked Ienzo’s hair. He’d finally caved a few years ago and cut the bangs short enough to show his full face, but other than that it was all the same. Demyx was fairly sure the gray was a bit fainter now, more white. “Can I ask you something?”

“We’re beyond that, aren’t we?”

“Depends.” He took a breath. “I… I want to start a family.” Ienzo opened his mouth, but Demyx forged forward. “When I help those people give birth, you know, it makes me feel…” He trailed off. “Things are… better than they were. I really think I could be a good…” He faltered on “dad.”

Ienzo touched his face. “You’d be wonderful,” he said softly.

“...But that’s not something you want.”

His expression was unreadable; Demyx began bracing himself for the hurt. “I’ve been… weighing the options,” he admitted. “I’d be lying if I said I weren’t terrified, but if anything, it’s a… good sort of fear.” He blinked. “I’m all in, Demyx.”

* * *

There were only two options for them; adoption or surrogacy. Most of Radiant Garden’s children were wanted, leaving them with the other. But why would someone go through the roughness of pregnancy for nothing? Demyx was on the verge of giving up when he got a phone call from Yuffie, asking him to go for a walk.

She hadn’t changed much in the intervening years; she still did a lot of security detail, only now with the city government, not the committee. She was brash as ever. “Nice glasses. Nerd,” she said when she saw him. “I bet this was your husband’s idea?”

“Mine, because I need to see,” he said. “Used to irritate the shit out of me when Cid complained about his eyes. But here we are. So what’s up?”

“I can’t catch up with my good friend Demyx?”

“You can. Though I don’t know what’s changed since drinks last Thursday.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on.” They walked in the early spring air. The flowers were just starting to come into bloom. “So I’m going to just come out and say it.”

He had no idea where this was going. “Okay?”

“I know you and Ienzo want to have a baby. I also know that because people are having responsible sex or whatever that there aren’t a whole lot of extras hanging around. I’m healthy, I have a functioning uterus. I’d love to be the weird aunt to your nerd baby.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Sorry--am I hearing this right?”

She’d turned pink. “Make me say it again and I’ll kill you.”

Demyx blinked. He was on good terms with Yuffie, but they weren’t  _ that _ close. “You’d do that for me?”

She exhaled heavily. “You two are good people,” she said, with a shrug. “Whatever kid you had, you’d love the crap out of them. I didn’t get that when I was a kid, and I don’t think you did either. Plus… I always kinda wanted to be pregnant, but without the responsibility. Weird shit happening to my body? An excuse to eat as much as I want and be a total bitch? Could be worse.”

He turned to face her. “It’s a lot to ask of you.”

“Well I’m offering.” She crossed her arms. “I mean, the way you and Aerith do things, it’s basically painless anyway.”

“But not easy. It’d interfere with your work.”

She shrugged. “You know the council kisses committee ass. They’d find something for me.” She squeezed his hand. “Talk to him about it. This thing? Has a vacancy sign on it.” She pointed to her stomach. “I’ll be around. Let me know.” She winked and wandered off.

* * *

“...Wow,” Ienzo said, once Demyx had told him the story. 

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

He set his phone down. “Should we do it?”

“She’s offering. Pretty insistently. It wouldn’t be… hers, anyway.”

“Only by about one percent,” Ienzo said. “Mitochondrial DNA. It’s unavoidable.”

“...So we’d both jerk off into a dish, put it in her, and nine months later there’s baby?”

He groaned. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. She’d have to take hormones, to stimulate egg growth, then once those are harvested we’d have to exchange her DNA for one of ours, then fertilize the egg, implant it, and  _ then _ , if you’re lucky, there’s baby.”

Demyx blinked. “...You  _ have _ been looking into this.”

He shook his head. “It’s either this or trying to make some sort of replica.” He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt. “There’s a… slim chance we might not be able to conceive regardless.”

Demyx sat down. “What do you mean?”

“Nobodies are sterile,” he said slowly. “We know this from our studies. Not just biological males--Larxene, too, did not have a period or ovulate. I was one for  _ twelve years _ , Demyx, through puberty.”

“So then you can go in the egg and I’ll do the rest.”

“You were one too.” He exhaled. “Thankfully we can test for these things. But… even if somehow we’re fertile… it’s a long shot.”

Demyx took a deep breath. “We’ve beaten bad odds before,” he said slowly. “Let’s see what happens.”

Ienzo ended up being half right; upon further examination of their… DNA, they found that he was, more or less, completely sterile. “...Shooting blanks,” he muttered, in a moment of unusual crassness. “The more work I put into this, the more I wanted it, and here we are.”

He squeezed his shoulders. “But if it’s just you we can still make this work. And me?”

“You  _ have _ a count, but it’s not great. Not ideal or even passable. Before we put Yuffie through the misery of all those shots, perhaps we should… reconsider. Maybe it’s not meant to be at this moment in time.”

Demyx sat down heavily on one of the stools in the lab. 

“I’m sorry, love. I know how much this means to you.”

“No… you’re right, we shouldn’t force what isn’t meant to be.”

He took his hand. “There may still be the off chance for adoption. We merely need to… wait for the right opportunity.”

He nodded slowly, treading heartbreak. “Yeah. Sure. That.”

* * *

He was trying to get to work when Even stopped him. “Again your DNA taunts me,” he spat.

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He softened a little. “I’ve heard of your… desire, for a child. I’ve worked with bodies for years, boy. Why didn’t one of you come to me?”

He blinked. “Well, Ienzo figured--”

“Does Ienzo have my increasingly specific skillset when it comes to molding genetic information?”

Despite himself, a spark of hope. “...No.”

* * *

It took time, but eventually it did happen. Even never revealed exactly how he did it--he claimed that his research wouldn’t be released until he died, “and I do not intend to do that for many years yet”--but he made the embryo, the one that might maybe be a human, and combined with Yuffie’s strange fascination that she “grow a baby” for them, it went from something that was a vague dream to a real, tangible fact. 

She sat on the couch in their living room. “I gave it five days,” she said. “Nothing. Nada. No blood. Just test my pee.”

“That’s not how we look for pregnancy,” he said. His heart was starting to race. 

“Well then, doc, do what you have to. The anticipation is killing me.”

“Not a doctor.”

“Shut up. You’re basically a doctor.”

He held his hand over her stomach, searching, sensing, only to feel a weak, but very present, beginning of a new life.

“...Oh god. You’re crying. I lost it, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

He wiped at his eyes. “You didn’t  _ lose _ anything,” he said. “You’re pregnant.”

She screamed. “You’re going to be a dad!”

* * *

None of them breathed until she passed the twelve week mark; even then Demyx lived in a state of anxiety. Ienzo fussed over everything from names to what sort of detergent they might use on the baby’s linens. But it was no longer an impossibility; before long they could  _ see _ it, and even feel it move.

While Yuffie took immaculate care of it with an almost uncomfortable enthusiasm, getting used to having her around was… something of an adjustment. “I make an entrance now,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “Ba-bam, here she is. Belly first. I trip over everything.”

“The human pregnancy is technically aerodynamically impossible,” Ienzo said. “I think a loss of grace is not uncalled for.”

“People keep asking me who the dad is. I think my favorite way to respond so far is to say I’m not actually pregnant.” She rubbed her hand absently over the mound. “It’s really active. I think it likes the sound of your voice.”

He turned pink. 

“Come here. Feel the baby,” she said in a weird voice. She took Ienzo’s palm and laid it on her bump. “It knows who you are.”

He blinked. Demyx expected him to say something like, “well it can’t know anything, it’s just a fetus,” but instead he said, “I should hope so. The lengths we went to to get it here.”

She laughed.    
  
For the first time in a long while life felt a little weird, a little performative, especially as the pregnancy only progressed. Demyx could feel his and Ienzo’s dynamic slowly shifting. They were no longer  _ just _ a married couple, and wouldn’t always be able to just do whatever they wanted. Soon there would be a responsibility. It changed the way they interfaced, especially because they  _ didn’t _ agree on anything when it came to raising the child. They squabbled over things like how to educate it, whether to feed it formula or breastmilk, and more intensely, how they would one day explain their pasts to it. 

Yuffie had her own opinions on this. She stroked the bump absently. “Well, you shouldn’t lie to them,” she said, adjusting her swollen ankles a little on the ottoman. “Not the way people lied to you two, right? I think you should… keep it simple, at least until they’re old enough to understand. If they’re your kid, they’re going to be smart. Yeah. Simplicity, and vagueness. Aerith’s having the same problem with her daughter. How do you explain darkness? The Fall? But kids… hear things. And with all this lying around?” She gestured to the bookshelf closest to her, which happened to contain some of Ienzo’s research. “Once it learns to read it’s all out the window.”

Ienzo sighed heavily. “I… I don’t want them to feel unsafe, though, and learning these things might make that happen.”

She shook her head. “As long as you love them, and are present with them, and are  _ kind _ , I think they can accept it with a grain of salt.”

Demyx gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Like you did with Ansem and Even.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Well. Glad to know you care so much, and I’m not doing all this for nothing.”

* * *

They spent time, the three of them, putting together the nursery in the room next door. Kids seemed to need so much  _ stuff _ , clothes and pacifiers and bottles and so many other little things. Ienzo would spend hours reorganizing everything, and Demyx kept cleaning and cleaning. It was an old space; it got dusty quickly. Wasn’t that a bad thing? It seemed like everything he’d learned about the human body seemed to go out the window.

“This is why I don’t self-treat, or heal my loved ones,” Aerith said. Her daughter kept flipping through the heavy cardboard page of her picture book, holding it up to them and saying “Look! Blue!” “I know, sweetie,” she added, patiently. “Are you  _ sure _ this is what you want?”

Demyx laughed a little. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“I’m surprised as you about Yuffie,” she said. “I’ve known her for years and I can’t pretend to understand what goes through that woman’s head. Vincent’s been trying to get her to settle down. I wonder if this is something of a test run for her. To see if she can handle being a mom.”

Demyx thought about it. His niece handed him the book. “Blue,” she said. “I know!” He said to her. “What other colors do you see?”

This question seemed to blow her mind; she looked at the book. “Red?”

“On the next page, maybe.” He turned back to Aerith. “That… kinda makes sense. It did seem out of the blue, even for her. We thought she was… a little too into it.”

“She talks a tough game,” Aerith said. “But she’s… honestly, she just wants to love and be loved.”

“I can relate.” The little girl approached him and held up her arms, wanting to be picked up. Demyx obliged. “I think  _ this _ is part of what started me thinking, you know?”

“Me being a mom?”

“Yeah. Being the babysitter.”

She picked up a cloth and wiped at something on the toddler’s face. “You’ve got a very nurturing personality,” she said. “It’s only natural, to want kids.” She smirked a little. “You’ve got about three weeks of freedom left. If you do anything,  _ sleep. _ ” Her eyes became serious. “For the love of god.”

* * *

The weeks seemed to pass quickly. They all waited for the labor anxiously, especially Yuffie herself, not that Demyx could blame her. If he could take her discomfort for her, he would; all he could offer was some palliative care. She stayed with them, the last month or so, rather than do the long walk a few times a day. She tried to be in good spirits, but Demyx could tell this was wearing on her; she’d been unusually quiet, when before she chattered for hours on end about nothing much. “I can’t wait to, like, not be peeing every ten minutes,” she said. “God. It’s going to be so good. And sleep! I don’t think I’ve slept more than a few hours a night since November.”

It was rainy that day, and hot; February was always something of a nightmare. Ienzo was off at a city council meeting; Demyx was home under the guise of making medicine, but really he was trying to keep an eye on Yuffie, who was completely reticent, lying on the couch and staring into the middle distance. “...You doing okay?” he asked her. “I can get you another ice pack.”

“I feel… weird,” she said slowly.

Demyx tried to keep his face impassive. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know, just… weird. Heavy. More than normal.”

He went over to her and checked her vitals. Her temperature was a little high, but no more than an at-term person in the dead of summer. “Any pain?”

She thought about it, her eyes glassy. “I’m not sure.”

“Can I touch the baby?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said wearily.

He rested his hand on the bump, trying to sense it. He could tell without prodding much at all what was actually going on. He swallowed, feeling a little dizzy. “So you’re in labor,” he said.

“For real?” she ran a hand through her hair. “I thought it would hurt a lot more.”

“The heavy feeling could be contractions. How long have you felt like that?”

She blinked. “I don’t know, since last night, maybe?”

Nerves fluttered inside of him. “Since  _ last night _ ?”

“Well I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel!” She sat up a little. 

Demyx squeezed her hand. “I’m going to make a few calls, okay?” His hands were shaking; he didn’t trust himself to text. “You just lay down for a few minutes.” It was hard to be both a healer and an anxious parent. He tried to get himself under control. Ienzo answered at the first ring.

“It’s now,” Ienzo said, without prelude.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming.” He heard papers shuffling. “Time for things to change.”

It was an easy birth, almost startlingly fast, actually. They kept her in as little pain as possible; their daughter was born just after four in the afternoon, small but otherwise healthy. Holding her for the first time overwhelmed him, and he cried ceaselessly for some time. 

“She’s got your hair, look,” Ienzo said, running his hand oh-so-gently over her skull, a soft brown tuft. “I was hoping.”

Yuffie turned onto her side, flinching a little. “You know I didn’t even  _ imagine _ what she would look like,” she said. “She was just, like, a question mark.”

“You okay?” Demyx asked, through tears. He passed the baby gently to Ienzo. 

“I’m actually fine,” she said. “I can tell I’m going to be sore--but honestly that wasn’t so bad. I was expecting, like—”

“Screaming? Hair tearing out? Squeezing someone’s hand until it breaks?” He tried to dry his eyes. Ienzo had drawn the baby close, his eyes shut tight.

“Well, yeah,” she admitted. “But it was like, a little pull, oops there it is.”

“I don’t even know how to begin thanking you—”

“It’s not exactly over,” she said dryly. “There’s still… the matter of this.” She patted one of her breasts. “But I… I wanted to see if I could do it. In case I… wanted to have one that’s  _ really  _ mine, you know? My boyfriend… really wants it.”

So Aerith had been right. “You didn’t think you could handle pregnancy?”

“That’s not it.” She shook her head. “The idea of… helping bring a life into the world, and then having to let it go. I wasn’t sure I could do it.”

“But it’d be your baby,” Demyx pointed out.

Yuffie smiled. “Mine to take care of. But in the end, they’re their own person, you know?”

“And how did this answer your hypothesis?” Ienzo asked softly. He was also teary.

“Well… if it makes us as happy as it makes you two… then maybe it isn’t a complete waste of time. Could I hold the bugger? Nine months in me and I haven’t even seen her face.” 

Ienzo hesitated, holding her a little more tightly, before handing the baby to her. “Sorry you ended up with neurotic squares. But they’ll love you.” Yuffie touched her cheek. “Someday I’ll teach you how to make their lives hell.”

* * *

There was a fullness to their lives that there hadn’t been before. While they were exhausted, with the feedings and the fussiness, Demyx knew they had done the right thing. It felt  _ natural _ , comfortable. 

“She needs a name,” Ienzo said, coaxing the bottle into her mouth. “I thought the one we’d picked was it, but…”

“Seeing her changed your mind.”

“...Precisely.”

Her eyes were open, newborn blue and unfocused. She ate like she wasn’t quite sure what it was. Demyx took one of her tiny hands and felt it close around his finger. “What if…”

He looked at him. “What?”

“What if we named her after your mom? Isn’t that a… tradition, here?”

Ienzo blinked a little. “I suppose…” He thought about it a moment, then nodded. “Well that’s the one, isn’t it. Chiara. It fits.” He sighed. “You named the cat  _ and _ our daughter. The next one’s mine.”

“The next one?” Demyx smirked. “We barely got  _ this _ one.”

“I’m thinking ahead.” He smiled. “Who knows what the world has in store?”

* * *

It was a pleasure, to see her grow; even once they returned to their work, they had a slew of babysitters. Even put up a front of unwillingness, but Demyx knew he doted on her. “I feel I owe you that much,” he said, to Ienzo. “Goodness knows you two must need some time for yourselves. I think we’ll be alright, won’t we?” He addressed Chiara. She put her hand right on his nose. 

“The bag should have everything you need,” Ienzo said anxiously. “And you’ll call me, if—?”

Even raised an eyebrow. “I have done this before, you know. And she returned with her head still attached, did she not?”

Chiara burped and smiled. 

“Goodness, I do hope you don’t inherit your fathers’ anxiety. Off we go.”

Demyx rested his hand on Ienzo’s waist. “He loves it,” he said.

“He and Ansem are certainly vying for her heart. Little do they know that Moosie is number one to her.” Noticing the offending stuffed animal still sitting on the dresser, he swore. “Goodness. I should bring this to them--she’ll get upset if she notices it missing—”

Demyx took the stuffed animal out of his hand. “She’ll be okay,” he said. “Why don’t you spend some time with me, hm? Like adults?”

Ienzo nodded, reddening a little. “I can do that.”

* * *

“Daddy?”

Demyx stirred weakly. He turned on the lamp at bedside. There she was, at his bedside, thumb in mouth, bedraggled, half-rotting Moosie in one hand. “What is it, baby?”

Chiara hiccupped. “I had a bad dream.”

He picked her up. She was getting so  _ big _ , so heavy. He settled her between them. 

“What happened, love?” Ienzo asked, smoothing a strand of hair from her face. 

“Dream about ghosts.” She sobbed a little. “They go boo.”

Ienzo and Demyx exchanged a glance. “What kind of ghosts?” Ienzo asked.

“Dark. Like.” She lifted her hands above her head and hissed. “Grandpa telling me about them?”

Something like anger flickered across Ienzo’s face before he was able to control it. “What did he say?”

“I was… playing,” she said, sniffling. “I goed… downstairs. He said I can’t goed down there because—people are sleeping.” She held a finger to her lips. “Shh. But I…” She tapped her head. “I  _ seed _ them.”

“Do you see them still?” Demyx asked gently.

Chiara shook her head. “No. That’s why I’m sad. They were my friends. They play with me when I sleep. They say… hello. And manners.”

Ienzo blinked. “You mean “thank you”?”

She nodded. “They said tell daddy thank you. They say we sleep now. Shh.” She started to cry.

“Shh,” Demyx said gently. “It’s okay. You have to say goodbye sometimes. It’s okay that it hurts.”

* * *

Chiara got along well with Aerith’s daughter; they were both feisty, adventurous. More than once she slipped away, to explore the castle, much to Demyx and Ienzo’s horror. Even seemed to find this endlessly amusing.

“Now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine,” he said, once they had found the bedraggled child. “Not so fun that you’re on the other side, is it?”  
  
For a moment they watched her sleep, wan and exhausted, before returning to their bedroom. There was an odd look on Ienzo’s face. Very slowly, he took off his glasses and lay back. “That’s right, isn’t it?”  
  
“What is?”  
  
He laughed a little to himself. “She’s the same age I was when I first came here.”  
  
“It’s all going so quick. They said it would, but--”  
  
“I know.” He groaned a little. “She’s too much like us.”  
  
“I don’t know what you were expecting.” He took Ienzo’s hand, ran his finger over the smooth metal of his wedding ring. “But she’s… getting a more normal childhood than we ever did.”

“There’s certainly no shortage of love,” Ienzo admitted. “For that, I’m eternally grateful.” Aeleus and Dilan both, in their own ways, also doted on her. “Would you ever… want another?”

Demyx considered it. “I’m not sure,” he said. “When you look at it logistically…”

“Aside from that.”

“If there’s a chance, then maybe,” he said, with a shrug. “But I’m happy with just her.”

“I am too.”

* * *

Chiara was bright, much like Ienzo; but people came easily to her, like Demyx. After much debate, they sent her to public school, much to the chagrin of everyone else; but they could teach her whatever else she may want to learn. She couldn't grow up isolated. To let her go and get something like their lives back was difficult. They were able to find one another again. They were closer to middle aged, now, rather than young. He knew it would happen. It still felt strange. He was shaving one morning when he saw it. “Ienzo,” Demyx said. “Come here.”  
  
“Something the matter?”  
  
He could barely contain the laughter. “Look.” He lifted the part of his hair gently, revealing the strands of gray.  
  
Ienzo touched it. “It must be starting early, for you. After all the stress you’ve gone through in your life, it’s not surprising.”

“We really aren’t young anymore, are we?”  
  
“As though these things last forever? We’ve still got more than half our lives left.”  
  
“...Huh.” He brushed his hair back into place. The style was less radical and more functional than it had been in the past; gone were the days of the shorn scalp, the gel. His younger self would probably find him infinitely boring, he realized.

He was okay with that.   
  
Ienzo kissed him softly. “I rather like the idea of you being a silver fox.”

* * *

So that’s really it, then.

In his rare moments of alone time, he composes. His style has changed considerably, away from the technically difficult and more towards lightness, subtlety, expression of emotion rather than skill. He writes a sort of memoir, with these compositions; more for his daughter, and maybe her eventual children, than himself. It’s a sort of project that takes years, years of stolen minutes and endless editing. He leaves a copy of it, quietly, in the archives, on the internet.   
  
She’s almost grown up when she finds it.  
  
“...Dad?”  
  
He’s at work, up to his elbows in medicine. “What’s up, sweetie?” She has his coloring, but she looks so like Ienzo; small, delicate. She moves like him, too, using her hands when she speaks. 

“You busy?” She nods her head towards the door. “I’ll get lunch. You keep forgetting yours at home. It makes Father so mad.” She chose how to refer to them herself. 

They walk for a while, get lunch at some cafe.   
  
“I was studying for my entrance exams,” she begins. College around the corner at the fledgling university ( _how_?). She still isn’t sure if she wants to pursue the arts or the sciences. “Researching folk ballads for this essay I want to write. You… left something in the library. For me.”  
  
“...Yeah.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”  
  
“Because…” Any number of reasons. “Well, for a long time it wasn’t done. You know your dad and I… went through a lot. I didn’t want you to find it until you were ready. Old enough to understand.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” she says, so earnestly it makes him laugh. “I… I want to know how I came to be. Not just the Aunt Yuffie story, the… rest of it. The history of my existence.”

Demyx can hear both his husband and himself in her words. He takes her hand, gives it a squeeze. “Let’s play it through together.”

And they do.

She has so many questions, not just for them but for Even and Ansem, Aeleus and Dilan. Hearing about the way they suffered, the way they made suffering, makes her cry, but she doesn’t see them as at fault, not in a way that makes her love them less. The knowledge changes her. She says it gives her a deeper insight on how to help people.  
  
She goes off to college--lives with friends in an apartment. She grows up.  
  
And they move on. For some reason only then does it feel right for them to move from the castle, to a small home in town. They bring with them their memories, the great-great-grandson of the cat Beans. They have over their friends, their family; one day their daughter brings along a young woman who will become her wife. 

When the time comes--and it does, it’s inevitable--they pass away gently, quietly, and against all odds, together. Demyx knows it will hurt her, her children, but he also knows this is the way things must be. They’ve both left their legacies behind, full of healing, of progress, of goodness.

So their story ends, and they sleep peacefully. She visits their memorials, teaches her children about her namesake, about what her family did and how they then atoned. The city government reopens the castle to the public, restores it to something resembling its former glory. Again, it becomes a place of learning, but they never do forget the ills they are capable of.

For the last time, Chiara stands in the rooms where she was raised, where one of her fathers played endless songs for her, the other reading to her infinite stories, both teaching her all she needs to know, stories she hopes to hand down. Rooms now empty, rooms now for someone else. Her wife takes her gently by the elbow, leads her away.

And they begin their life anew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented on this (incredibly self-indulgent) story of mine. I appreciate you all so much for sticking around on this wild ride. I've been working on this series for a little over a year now, so it's going to be strange to leave it behind. 
> 
> Stay well. Read zemyx. Take care of yourselves.
> 
> -A


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